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.

Ernani, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, February 2012

After Verdi’s first four operas were premiered at La Scala, La Fenice in Venice commissioned the fifth, and the composer eventually plumped for Victor Hugo’s play Hernani, a drama on Castillian honour. The resulting opera Ernani may lack the irony and humour of the original play, but it supplies four glorious roles for soprano, tenor, baritone, and bass. Requiting Spanish honour leads to the death of the soprano and tenor right at the end of this production, and in the play the man sung by a bass kills himself too.

De Silva, Elvira, Don Carlo, all photos MetOpera/ Marty Sohl

This is Don Ruy Gomez De Silva, sung by Ferruccio Furlanetto, who inhabited the role of passionate yet honourable Spanish nobleman as if it was entirely his own nature. Here is a man who will protect an intruder with his life, once he has been accepted as guest, even though the intruder turns out to be his rival Ernani. This is the tenor, who appears in the first scene as leader of the bandits, and is love with De Silva’s ward, Elvira. She is adored by tenor, bass, and the baritone, King Carlos of Spain. The opera takes place in 1519 when Carlos is about to be elected Holy Roman Emperor, becoming Charles V, whose ghost appears in Verdi’s later opera Don Carlo. Here he is a very young man, portrayed with utter conviction by Dmitri Hvorostovsky.

Furlanetto as De Silva

After an unpromising start in the overture and the bandit camp, the scene changes to Elvira’s apartment in the castle and Angela Meade raised the level of performance hugely with her wonderful soliloquy expressing love for Ernani and distaste for De Silva. This young soprano produced wonderful trills and lovely soft sounds, and her aria in this scene was a tour de force. The later trio with Elvira, Ernani and Don Carlo came over beautifully, and Marcello Giordani sang strongly with the others, though he seemed to be straining in his own solos, particularly in the higher register. After De Silva enters and has been fobbed off with a story about what is going on in his castle, Furlanetto is left alone to sing a riveting monologue, wishing that his heart had become chilled with age rather than full of youthful ardour. Such wonderful singing from Furlanetto, and from Hvorostovsky, particularly when he shows Carlo’s strength and determination in Act III.

This early Verdi contains a wealth of beautiful music, and though the characters may not carry the interest inherent in many of his later operas, the singers turned in gripping performances, and I’m delighted the Met have broadcast it. The costumes by Peter J. Hall are wonderful, the camera work by Barbara Willis Sweete cleverly showed the full effect of the stage, and the chorus was magnificent. Marco Armiliato in the orchestra pit gave huge support to the singers, and there was a real bounce to the music immediately the chorus sang at the start of Act I.

Ernani and Elvira

The interval features were not up to the Met’s usual high standard. Joyce DiDonato looked awkward in her red dress, and seemed surprisingly wooden with the principals, though more comfortable with regular employees of the opera house, such as chorus director Donald Palumbo. And why do we need to hear the voice of the master carpenter as the scenery is shifted around? But Peter Gelb is an engaging presence, and his mouth-watering description of next season’s cinema highlights was a delight.

Tosca, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, June 2011

Sex, politics and religion — heady stuff when Sarah Bernhardt played the title character in Sardou’s 1887 play La Tosca, and Puccini saw her do it. He immediately wanted to turn the play into an opera, but there were problems with the rights, and he was soon busy with Manon Lescaut and then La Bohème. Eventually he managed to return to Sardou’s play and in January 1900 produced one of the greatest operas ever.

As Floria Tosca in this performance, Martina Serafin sang and acted beautifully, and Marcello Giordani was a superb Cavaradossi. Unfortunately in the dress rehearsal I attended, Juha Uusitalo was disappointing as Scarpia. I admired him immensely in October 2008 as Jokanaan in the Met’s Salome, but here he was strangely lacking in stage presence, and failed to exhibit the menace that this forceful and much feared police chief should have. After all this is based on real events, and Sardou specifically set the action during a period of less than 24 hours, from 17 June 1800 to dawn on June 18, when Napoleon was about to liberate Rome from the rule of Naples.

The two levels in Act I with Scarpia in the foreground.

This political and personal drama is well served by Jonathan Kent’s production with its designs by Paul Brown, and well aided by Mark Henderson’s lighting, which starts very darkly in all three acts before gradually brightening, suiting the theatrical development in each case. The production has one or two unusual aspects: Act I is set on two levels, allowing Scarpia to sing on his own near the Attavanti chapel, while the choir and congregation are on the upper (ground) level; and in Act II after Tosca has killed Scarpia she finds the letter of safe-conduct not in his hand, but in the breast pocket of his jacket, stained with blood.

Martina Serafin as Tosca at the end of Act II

Scarpia’s henchman, Spoletta was brilliantly sung by Hubert Francis, whose acting and presence were stronger than that of his master, and the Sacristan in Act I was superbly portrayed by Jeremy White. These excellent performances of minor characters bring huge authenticity to the drama, but the main plaudits go of course to Serafin and Giordani, along with Antonio Pappano in the orchestra pit. Act III starts beautifully quietly — this is wonderful music, and Pappano directed it with immense sensitivity — but the repeated coughs in the audience were distracting. The Royal Opera House needs to think how they might alleviate this irritating problem — how would they manage it if this were a live cinema relay?

Performances of Tosca with the current cast continue until June 30, followed by two further performances on July 14 and 17 with Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, Jonas Kaufman as Cavaradossi and Bryn Terfel as Scarpia — for details click here.

I shall report on the Gheorghiu/ Kaufman/ Terfel cast after the July 14 performance.

Simon Boccanegra, Metropolitan Opera live relay, February 2010

In the Council chamber scene, during the second part of Act I, the Doge pleads for peace with Genoa, while the Senate calls for war. Suddenly fighting is heard outside, but Boccanegra, as Doge, commands the doors be opened and the people allowed in. This confident act shows Boccanegra to be a leader, a man we can trust. What a change this is from some of the weak leaders we have in Europe today. Boccanegra is a strong and noble character, torn down by enemies who resent his use of power, yet willing to support his long lost daughter in her desire to marry one of them.

Placido Domingo played him superbly, singing this baritone role with excellent lyrical expression. It is a remarkable transformation for this great tenor, particularly in such an exhausting role. His nemesis, Jacopo Fiesco was strongly sung by James Morris, and their interactions, in the Prologue at the beginning and again in Act III at the end, were masterpieces of musical staging.

Before the start of the Prologue, Boccanegra has seduced Fiesco’s daughter, Maria, who then gave birth to a daughter of her own, also named Maria. The mother is now dead, and in Act I, twenty-five years later, neither man yet realises that the daughter is now Amelia Grimaldi, beautifully portrayed by Adrianne Pieczonka. It’s a difficult part that opens Act I with an aria alone on stage, immediately followed by a love duet with Gabriele Adorno, powerfully sung by Marcello Giordani, whom she warns about his political intrigues. Then after an important scene when Fiesco tells Adorno that his beloved is an adopted orphan, she meets Boccanegra, finding out that he is her real father. This recognition scene was marvellously done, and I only wish I had seen it on stage rather than the cinema screen, where we have to look at one or the other when they are not close enough for the camera.

I shall not go through the whole opera, except to say it is a good idea to have some clue about the plot before it starts. Fiesco originally refuses to forgive Boccanegra, demanding that he yield to him the baby daughter, but this is impossible as the girl was taken away at birth to be brought up near the sea, where Boccanegra, at that time a pirate, could visit her. He lost contact with her when her nurse died, and in the Prologue is acclaimed Doge of Venice. Only at the end of the opera can he return the young woman, his daughter, now called Amelia, to her grandfather. In the meantime, his chief of staff, Paolo, menacingly portrayed by Stephen Gaertner (incorrectly stated on the cast list as Nicola Alaimo), has put a slow poison in his drink. Lest the poison not serve its purpose, Paolo also tries persuading Fiesco to stab him to death, and when Fiesco refuses he convinces Adorno to do the deed. In the end Paolo is tortured and executed, and though Boccanegra makes peace with both Adorno and Fiesco, nothing can prevent the poison doing its work. One rather macabre aspect of this production was the late scene between father and daughter when she helps him to drink from the poisoned cup. I could have done without this, but otherwise the production by Giancarlo del Monaco, with glorious sets and costume designs by Michael Scott was simply terrific. Filming by Barbara Willis Sweete showed everything very clearly with excellent close-ups and fine perspectives on the whole scene.

Conducting by James Levine gave a great sense of drama to Verdi’s music, and it will be interesting to compare his excellent direction with that of Antonio Pappano at Covent Garden this summer. For those forthcoming performances we have Domingo again in the title role, with Ferruccio Furlanetto as Fiesco, Marina Poplavskaya as Maria/Amelia, and Joseph Calleja as Adorno.

Turandot, Metropolitan Opera live relay, November 2009

This Franco Zeffirelli production is wonderful. The sets by Zeffirelli himself, along with costume designs by Anna Anni and Dada Saligeri, give a sense of power and magnificence, while the predominantly dark lighting by Gil Wechsler gives a sense of menace. All one then needs is a good conductor and fine singers, and here we were excellently served by Andris Nelsons in the orchestra pit, and Maria Guleghina and Marcello Giordani in the main parts of Turandot and Calaf. With her great stage presence and powerful voice, Ms. Guleghina portrayed Turandot to perfection, and interacted superbly with Giordani. His evident determination to crack the riddles, showing uncertainty before working out the answers, was admirably done, and despite a brief loss of pitch in Act II he sang heroically, rendering Nessun dorma with perfect timing and build-up.

The supporting role of Calaf’s father Timur was sensitively portrayed by Samuel Ramey, and the bravely faithful Liu was beautifully sung and acted by Marina Poplavskaya. I particularly liked the way Charles Anthony portrayed the emperor, singing with wonderful Chinese intonation, and one of the intermission features by Patricia Racette was an interview with Anthony, who told us he first sang at the Met in 1954, and that his real family name was Caruso. What a superbly appropriate fact, since the opera is concerned with finding out the prince’s real name. But that was just icing on the cake, because this opera was brilliantly performed. And it shows the Met to be setting a template for opera performance that puts into a shadow some of the more confusing and hyper-intellectual nonsense that one occasionally meets. Thank you Metropolitan Opera!

Tosca, Royal Opera, July 2009

Tosca, Royal Opera, July 2009. The main reason I bought tickets for this revival was to see Deborah Voigt as Tosca, with Marcello Giordani as Cavaradossi. Unfortunately Ms. Voigt cancelled due to acute colitis, and is being replaced by two other ladies: Angela Gheorghiu and Nelly Miricioiu. Ms. Gheorghiu sang on the first night, and I saw the second night on July 11 with Ms. Miricioiu. Bryn Terfel was Scarpia, and the conductor was Jacques Lacombe. Last year this same production by Jonathan Kent was superbly conducted by Antonio Pappano, and this time around Jacques Lacombe also did an excellent job, reminding me of his wonderful Ariadne auf Naxos in Berlin five months ago.

As Tosca, Nelly Miricioiu gave a fine performance, and though her singing lacked perfection her acting was superb. For my money she was far preferable to Micaela Carosi last year, who lost her pitch on some of the sustained notes and lacked the pathos essential to this role. Nelly Miricioiu had the pathos and never went over the top — she is a wonderful singing actress. I’m not sure the interaction with Marcello Giordani worked as well as it might, because he started off very strongly in Act I, but seemed to flag towards the end. I was slightly reminded of his performance opposite Karita Mattila as Manon in the Metropolitan Opera broadcast of Manon Lescaut of February 2008, though as Sharpless in the Metropolitan Opera simulcast of Butterfly in March 2009 he sang like a god.

What really made this evening terrific was the riveting performance of Bryn Terfel, who gave a strong and nuanced interpretation of Scarpia, showing him to be manipulative and incorrigible rather than purely evil. He exuded a smouldering sexual power, and in Act I of this production, where Scarpia stands at a lower level than the main floor of the church, Terfel’s powerful stage presence provided a fitting close to the end of the act. In that act, Kostas Smoriginas was a sympathetic Angelotti, and Jeremy White a convincingly foolish Sacristan. With Martyn Hill doing a fine job as Spoletta, this was an excellent cast, well-rehearsed by Stephen Barlow, who was the revival director. In fact there were significant improvements from last year, and the activities of the soldiers in Act III did not distract from the music in the way they did before.

Madama Butterfly, live relay, Metropolitan Opera, New York, March 2009

This production by the late Anthony Minghella — perhaps the best Butterfly I’ve ever seen — was beautifully directed by his widow Carolyn Choa, who also did the original choreography. It portrayed the child as a puppet, which worked extremely well, allowing Butterfly to act with him rather than with a small boy unable to follow musical cues. Later during the prelude to Act III, Butterfly herself became a puppet, acting with a dancer portraying Pinkerton. The excellent puppetry was by the Blind Summit Theatre, the magnificent costumes by Han Feng, and the clever lighting by Peter Mumford. Altogether, Minghella’s production shows an intimacy that suits this personal tragedy very well, and it came over perfectly in a cinema setting.

The cast did a superb job. Patricia Racette acted the part of Butterfly with sensitivity and emotional conviction, singing with suitably restrained passion. Marcello Giordani was a hedonistic Pinkerton who sang like a god, and Dwayne Croft was outstanding as Sharpless, acting and singing with enormous sensitivity. Maria Zifchak as Suzuki expressed sympathy with Butterfly, while showing she understood the transient nature of Pinkerton’s affections. Back this up with conducting by Patrick Summers that allowed the singers room to express themselves, and this became a great performance of Butterfly.