Francesca da Rimini, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, 17 March 2013

Seeing this opera for the second time in less than three year convinced me that it fills a much-needed gap in the repertoire. Clearly the cuts in London made by Opera Holland Park in 2010 were well judged. But if you’re one of the singers or the conductor or a member of the orchestra it must be hugely enjoyable to perform.

All images MetOpera/ Marty Sohl

Zandonai’s rich orchestration provides powerful moments, but also some tiresomely melodramatic music for action of a lighter vein. Act I was full of this, with extended passages for Francesca’s ladies in waiting. But full marks to the Met for reviving and screening Piero Faggioni’s beautifully artistic production from 1984 with its glorious costumes, nineteenth century impressionistic backdrop, and art nouveau concept of what the fourteenth century should look like. Ezio Frigerio’s sets, Franca Squarciapino’s costumes, Gil Wechsler’s lighting, and Donald Mahler’s elegantly subdued choreography all worked well, and cinema direction by Gary Halvorson was excellent.

A Rosenkavalier moment

The star role is Francesca, sung here by Eva-Maria Westbroek who remarked in the intermission that this sort of story is still going on in the world today. She is quite right. A girl is married to a man she doesn’t love, while being in love with someone else. She arranges clandestine meetings with her lover, and the family kills the two of them. Francesca is in love with the fair Paolo, whom she once believed was to be her husband. In fact it’s his malformed brother, Gianciotto, and the insane jealousy of the third brother, Maletestino brings a denouément in which Gianciotto kills both his wife Francesca and his brother Paolo.

Smaragdi and Francesca

As Paolo, Marcello Giordani evidently relished the role from a poetic point of view, according to his intermission interview, but in Act I he sounded strained on the high notes, though he warmed up considerably in Act II. Eva-Maria Westbroek as Francesca sang and acted with dramatic power, but lacked a more nuanced portrayal that might suggest character development. It was perhaps easier for Mark Delavan and Robert Brubaker as the more one-dimensional characters Gianciotto and Maletestino, and both sang with great conviction. Fine solo appearance in Act I by Philip Horst as Francesca’s scheming brother Ostasio, and Ginger Costa-Jackson sang a beautiful mezzo as Francesca’s confidante Smaragdi.

She sings of potions, and appears in Act III as a Brangaene-like character to Francesca’s Isolde, but this opera’s eclectic allusions to Tristan und Isolde, and Lancelot and Guinevere, along with the musical resonances with Strauss and Puccini, weaken it and obscure any creative focus. There were lovely moments however, such as the kiss at the end of Act III, where Francesca’s costume and body language mirrored the 1895 painting Flaming June by Frederic Leighton. Eva-Maria Westbroek sang a fine prayer in Act IV, and the sudden ending with two brothers left standing while Francesca and Paolo lie dead was a coup de theâtre.

Gianciotto, Malatestino, Paolo

Plenty of tension from the orchestra under Marco Armiliato, and thank you to the Met for a production so fine that I shall never feel the need to see this opera again. In the intermission features, Sondra Radvanovsky told Marcello Giordani that he had performed 27 operas at the Met, and gushingly asked if this was his favorite. He answered diplomatically, unlike a singer in a previous opera who responded less charitably to one of her questions.

Un Ballo in Maschera, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, December 2012

David Alden’s vivid production of Verdi’s Ballo, portrays the main characters Riccardo and Renato in their historical roles as the Swedish king Gustav III and his murderer Anckarström. The assassination took place at a masked ball, and in an account written by a Polish officer who was present, the king received an anonymous warning “N’allez pas au bal ce soir. Il y va de votre vie” (Do not go to the ball this evening. Your life will be lost).

Fortune telling with King in disguise, all images MetOpera/ Ken Howard

Captain Anckarström, chosen by the two main conspirators, shot the king in the back at close range with a pistol loaded with rusty nails to encourage gangrene, and the king took thirteen days to die. He forgave the conspirators, but Anckarström was captured, had his gun hand lopped off and was flogged for three days, before being beheaded and quartered.

Scribe wrote a play on the incident, plus an opera libretto for Auber, titled Gustave III, ou Le bal masqué. Verdi wanted to use it for his own opera, but censors and other irritations transferred the action to Boston with a new libretto. Verdi used the invention of a love intrigue between Gustav and Anckarström’s, but in fact Gustav was homosexual, and the assassin nursed a different grievance. But many points of the story, such as the fortune-teller Ulrica Arfvidsson are quite accurate, and the king paid this society medium an incognito visit where she predicted his death by a man in a mask.

King and Amelia

Verdi’s opera brings into Act I the main characters, Gustavo, Anckarström, Amelia, Ulrica, and the additional role of the page Oscar, and Alden used some of the bouncy music for a song and dance routine, as if this were to be Ballo, the Musical. The bare stage allowed plenty of movement and was very effective for the scene in a wild place outside the city in Act II. This was after the interval, which featured a love-in between the interviewer Deborah Voigt, who looked terrific, and Marcello Alvarez, along with a welcomely assertive Dmitri Hvorostovsky, who commented on the set amplifying the voices, perhaps explaining why the others in Act I seemed a bit strained at times.

Anckarström and Amelia

After the first interval the problem was rectified, and as Act II started, Sondra Radvanovsky came through beautifully in her long soliloquy as Amelia. Marcello Alvarez sang Gustavo with a warm passion, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky played Anckarström with just the right feeling, from concern for the king’s safety to horror in finding the veiled woman he accompanies back to the city to be his own wife. With Stephenie Blythe as Ulrica in Act I, and Kathleen Kim as a lively page with a pretty voice, the singing of the cast complemented the orchestra to perfection under sensitive musical direction by Fabio Luisi.

Oscar tends the dying king

Verdi’s music for this opera is inspired, and Sondra Radvanovsky’s Morrè, ma prima in grazia (I shall die, but first, in mercy … ) was upliftingly emotional. Her husband’s response was sung with great feeling by Hvorostovsky, as was the monologue by Alvarez, Forse la soglio attinse (Perhaps she reached her home … ) in the next scene, before the stage exploded into action for a dramatic ball scene. Ballo may not one of Verdi’s most famous operas, but don’t miss this in a repeat cinema screening if it’s available.

La Bohème, Opera Australia live cinema relay, April 2012

Transferring the action from late nineteenth century Paris to early 1930s Berlin allowed director Gale Edwards some extra scope with Act II. The Café Momus has become a cabaret venue, replete with scantily dressed girls in stockings and corsets, including one topless, and hints of bisexuality. With a superb performance by Taryn Fiebig as a very glamorous Musetta, this was a lot of fun. She sang beautifully and her wonderful stage presence reminded me of Deborah Voigt.

Alcindoro with Musetta in Act II, all images Jeff Busby

Yet Ms. Fiebig was not the only one with panache, as Shane Lowrencev’s tall and very camp Schaunard made a great entrance in Act I at the same time as the two errand boys with provisions.  Mimi was charmingly portrayed by Takesha Meshé Kizart, and the painter Marcello was very strongly sung and acted by José Carbo. I liked the touches of paint on his clothes, and his genial disposition, allied with a firmness that Musetta could find very attractive, was ideal for the role. After all she doesn’t think much of the wealthy Alcindoro in Act II and apparently far prefers the impecunious artist.

Mimi and Rodolfo

The bohemians’ garret is a huge room with a very high ceiling, light entering from windows at the top, and plenty of room for clowning around in Acts I and IV. But in Act I it is supposed to be very cold, yet Rodolfo was in shirt-sleeves and Mimi wore an elegant crochet shawl that would not have kept her very warm. It’s also supposed to be rather dark, yet in the cinema screening I saw — which was not the live relay that will be broadcast on April 24 — the lighting was over-bright, rendering the key all too visible. And in the close-ups Ji-Min Park as Rodolfo was covered in perspiration, which made him look ill. This was particularly odd in Act IV when it’s Mimi who is dying, and I wondered why he was laughing at some points. Very strange.

All in all, however, this staging gives a fine insight into the opera, with the four bohemians interacting very well together, and David Parkin as Colline giving a fine account of his beloved coat. In the cinema I was in the sound was too dry and bright, and Rodolfo’s voice did not show enough depth, but the other voices came over more successfully and the orchestra under the direction of Shao-Chia Lü gave a fine rendering of Puccini’s score, bringing out the emotive power of the music.

The cinema screening dates for Opera Australia’s season are: La Bohème 24th April; Lakmé 29th May; Don Giovanni 26th June; La Traviata 31st July; Turandot 28th August; Die tote Stadt 27th November; and then in 2013 The Pearl Fishers 29th January; and Madama Butterfly 26th March. For further information, including a list of cinema venues in the UK, click here.

Giselle, Royal Ballet, live relay from Covent Garden, January 2011

This two-act ballet creates a wonderful dichotomy between daylight and night-time. Act I is set in the everyday world, but the second act takes place in world of the wilis, spirits of dead maidens who rise up and destroy any young man they encounter. The story is straightforward. Count Albrecht, disguised as a peasant, wins the heart of Giselle, displacing her previous lover Hilarion. But Hilarion unmasks Albrecht and the shock devastates Giselle, who dies. Both men visit her grave at night and encounter the wilis. Hilarion they destroy, but Giselle helps Albrecht to live until dawn when the power of the wilis fades away. As they leave the stage, Albrecht tries to grasp the wraith that was Giselle, but she eludes him and vanishes.

Nuñez as Giselle in Act 1, photos by Johan Persson

The story lends itself to psychological interpretation, but this is ballet, not opera, and there is no gimmickry. The choreography and the music amply express the emotions and it’s up to the dancers to exhibit it all. On this occasion Marianela Nuñez gave a charming performance as Giselle, particularly in Act I where her main solo was beautifully danced, and her mad scene was a mixture of heartfelt sincerity and abject anguish. She was superbly partnered by Rupert Pennefather who showed a lovely line, well expressing his noble station in life. Gary Avis gave us a strong portrayal of Hilarion, and Genesia Rosato was excellent as Giselle’s mother, Berthe, an important character whose mime sequences express so much. That’s where a first view of this ballet is not enough because it’s not possible to grasp the significance of the mime gestures at first sight. Unfortunately stage performance has largely lost the language of mime, yet Berthe clearly explains about the wilis and their power over young men who carelessly strut their way through life.

But it’s not all mime, and there’s plenty of dancing in Act I, which was beautifully performed. The pas-de-six was headed Yuhui Choe and Ricardo Cervera; she was glorious as usual, and I found his musicality outstanding. Anyone seeing this ballet for the first time might miss the significance of the sword and the hunting horn, but Hilarion clearly compares the crests and realises Albrecht is of the same household as the noble hunting party. When he forces this knowledge on Giselle she goes crazy, and after a short mad scene she dies.

Nuñez and Pennefather in Act 2

In Act II, Helen Crawford was a fine queen of the wilis, with her big jumps and sense of command, well assisted by Yuhui Choe and Sian Murphy as her attendants. Pennefather and Nuñez were very good together, and I only wish that at the start of their first encounter in the woods the music had not been at such a lifeless tempo, forcing them to move in such slow motion. Apart from this one moment, Koen Kessels’ conducting was full of energy and emotion. It was notably better than the previous week, which was, I suppose, due to extra rehearsals for this live relay. If that’s the case then let us hope the ballet conductors can get more time with the orchestra in future because it makes a big difference to the performance.

This production by Peter Wright makes Giselle one of the strongest ballets in the Company’s classical repertoire, and the updated lighting by David Finn for Act II is wonderfully atmospheric. It conveys the ghostliness of the wilis and their world, which is essential to the story.

Performances with a variety of different casts continue until February 19 — for a review of another cast click here, and for details of further performances click here.

Stephen Fry: Wagner and Me, cinema screening, September 2010

“You stand waiting hours for a Valkyrie and then they all come at once”. So quips Stephen Fry in a studio at Bayreuth with four Valkyries in rehearsal. Bayreuth is the small town in Bavaria where Wagner built his own opera house, and in this delightful documentary we learn how he acquired the money for this temple to art, specially designed for performances of his own operas in a festival atmosphere of sanctity and enthusiasm. With its world-beating acoustics and an orchestra pit that’s invisible to the audience, the Festspielhaus in Bayreuth was something new, and Wagner was not a man to stick with old ideas. He was the person who put the lights out in opera houses, rather than allowing a well-lit auditorium where one could look around at other patrons in their expensive and decorous clothes. He was the person who as a conductor faced the orchestra rather than the audience, allowing an interaction with the players. And above all he was the man to bring the ideals of Greek tragic drama — as complete works of art with mythical themes — to the world of opera. He called such a creation a Gesamtkunstwerk (literally: complete work of art).

But that’s all background. What Fry gives us is fun and huge enthusiasm. He meets the pianist Stefan Mickisch whose piano renditions of Wagner’s works are quite incredible. I was in Bayreuth the same year and found the Mickisch excerpts from Tristan more revelatory than the orchestral performance in the opera house. Of course that says something about the dull conducting of the opera, and although we hear little of Mickisch’s playing, there’s enthusiasm on both sides when Fry talks to him, as there is during his interview with Valery Gergiev in St. Petersburg. By comparison the interview with Eva Pasquier-Wagner in the grounds of the Festspielhaus is a dreary affair, and though he tries to lighten it up with some slightly off-beat suggestions, she won’t bite. The Wagner family had one genius, and while Wagner’s grandson Wieland was also a creative force, the others can only step inadequately in his footsteps. Wagner said, “Kinder schaff’ neues” (Children do something new), but they can’t. They only think they can.

And what of that force that adored Wagner’s music and really did do something new, albeit extraordinarily destructive? Fry doesn’t omit the Führer, who was welcomed by Nazi-loving members among Wagner’s descendants, but he gives a level-headed, clear-sighted viewpoint, and without sparing Wagner’s anti-semitism he puts it into an oft-forgotten context. In the end it’s the music that counts, and of course Wagner’s new ideas that changed the performance of opera forever. Indeed, the Jewish side of Fry battles with his own conscience, separating the art from the politics and bigotry, and comparing Wagner’s work to a great tapestry on which someone has created a huge stain. While being aware of the stain we must see beyond it to the tapestry itself, and appreciate the work of — as Fry calls him — the greatest genius who ever lived.

In this film, produced and directed by Patrick McGrady, and shot at locations in Bayreuth, Nuremberg and Switzerland, Fry uses his eloquence to inform and entertain us. This is longer than the television version, but never flags for a minute, and was even applauded by some audience members at the end.

Lucia di Lammermoor, live cinema screening, Metropolitan Opera, New York, Feb 2009

Anna Netrebko sang the title role, and her lover Edgardo, heir to a rival clan and sworn enemy of her brother, was sung by Piotr Beczala, replacing Rolando Villazon. He did a fine job with his impassioned singing and stage presence, and Ms. Netrebko was excellent, managing this agonising part with strength and delicacy. Her domineering brother Enrico was brilliantly portrayed by Mariusz Kwiecien, showing a nastiness that made one wish him dead. Compelling her to marry, against her will, the wealthy Arturo, sung by Colin Lee, he drives her to insanity, and her mad scene was very effective. I remember Joan Sutherland doing this nearly forty years ago, and it is almost impossible to equal her, but Ms. Netrebko managed the scene with great skill and dramatic flair. As Raimondo, the family chaplain, Ildar Abradazakov sang strongly, and this was altogether an excellent cast, well led in the orchestra pit by Marco Armiliato, who brought a secure and sensitive performance form the orchestra.

The production by Mary Zimmerman transposes this Scottish nightmare from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century, and it worked well, giving a sense of spaciousness in the houses of Enrico and Edgardo, yet claustrophobia in the outside scene at night where Edgardo learns of his lover’s death. Designs were by Daniel Ostling and costumes by Mara Blumenfeld.