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.

Anna Bolena, Metropolitan Opera live cinema relay, October 2011

This was the work that finally put Donizetti on the map. Having already produced over thirty operas in Italy, he suddenly became famous across Europe after the first performance in Milan on 26 December 1830.

Anna Netrebko as Anne Boleyn, all photos Brigitte Lacombe

The first Anna was the amazing soprano Giuditta Pasta, who less than three months later created the role of Amina in La Sonnambula, and exactly one year later on 26 December 1831, the role of Norma, all in Milan. Italian operas in what later became known as the bel canto style were all the rage at the time, but they went out of fashion in the late nineteenth century, and a serious revival had to wait until after the Second World War. By that time  Anna Bolena was a forgotten work. It needed a great soprano, and when Maria Callas raised the possibility of reviving it at the Met, Rudolf Bing dismissed it as “an old bore of an opera”. Fortunately La Scala was willing, and with Visconti as producer, Gavazzeni in the orchestra pit, and Callas in the main role, it was a huge success — the live recording was issued by EMI.

Anne and Percy

Now we have Anna Netrebko as Anne Boleyn, and what a queen she is. Sincere, emotional, and not to be trifled with, though that’s exactly what her husband Henry VIII does, setting her up to sweep her aside in favour of her lady-in-waiting, Jane Seymour. After all the emotion of meeting her previous lover Percy she is still ready to give a powerful rendering to “Ah! segnata è la mia sorte” (Ah, my fate is sealed) at the end of Act I, seeing the prospect of her accuser (the king) being the one who condemns her. Percy was brilliantly sung by Stephen Costello, his high tenor having a heroic timbre, and the wretched Smeton (Mark Smeaton), a twenty-four year old musician who is secretly in love with the queen, was convincingly portrayed by Tamara Mumford. As for the king himself, Ildar Abdrazekov sang this bass role with excellent gravitas, and demonstrated power and cunning in equal measure. The role of Jane (Giovanna) Seymour was sung by Ekaterina Gubanova, whose voice was quite different from Ms. Netrebko, and the Met did well to produce such a strong contrast.

The king and Anne

In Act II it only got better, and Anna Netrebko came through with the emotions every time. So sincere in her soliloquy as she sings of how Catherine of Aragon was wronged, yet suddenly when Jane Seymour tells her she can save her own life by admitting guilt, she is furious, easily winning the exchange between the two women while not yet knowing that Jane is her rival in the king’s affections. The nobility of Anne and Percy shone through in the sincerity of their singing, and it’s hard not to feel that Henry VIII was a rogue, but then … he was an immensely powerful monarch, and David McVicar’s production emphasises this very well. In Act I as Percy returns from exile at the king’s wish, and bends to kiss the monarch’s hand he whips it away at the last minute.

Anne awaiting execution

Details like this help create a convincing atmosphere for this historical tale of two of the six wives of Henry VIII. For those unfamiliar with the list, just remember: divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived. Anne Boleyn was beheaded and Jane Seymour later died after giving birth to the king’s only son, the future Edward VI.

Musically this was a wonderful team effort with Marco Armiliato in the orchestra pit, but it was of course Anna Netrebko who gave it the diva touch. Congratulations to the Met for broadcasting it, and for extending their relays to Russia, which is highly appropriate in this case as the three main roles were sung by Russians!

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.

La Rondine, live relay from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, Jan 2009

If this opera were by a lesser composer than Puccini it would be a forgotten work, and indeed the Met has not staged it in 72 years. Its conception arose when Puccini accepted a lucrative contract from Vienna to write an operetta with eight or ten numbers only, the rest to be spoken dialogue. But he rejected the libretto submitted by the Viennese, and the composition of the text was given to the young Giuseppe Adami, who soon afterwards wrote the libretto for Il Tabarro, a dramatically powerful one-act opera. By contrast, La Rondine hovers uneasily between opera and operetta, and although containing some pretty music and technically difficult passages for the soprano, it never really convinces. The story is certainly more appropriate to an operetta: a lively courtesan wants to see what true romance is really like, so she falls in love; but being unable to explain her history to her lover, she reluctantly returns to her life as a courtesan.

It’s a wonderful vehicle for the soprano, and Angela Gheorghiu sang the main role of Magda beautifully, looking and acting the part to perfection. Roberto Alagna sang Ruggero, a newcomer to Paris and the young man she falls in love with. His ardour seemed forceful and shallow at the same time, but this should be judged as an operetta, and when Samuel Ramey, singing the part of Rambaldo, comes on at the end to take Magda back to his life of wealthy frivolity, the superficiality of the story becomes all too apparent. The other love match, between Prunier and Magda’s maid Lisette was well sung by Marius Brenciu and Lisette Oropresa, and she was a delight, hamming the part up to perfection.

The delightful production by Nicolas Joël, with sets by Ezio Frigerio and costumes by Franca Squarciapino, was already staged in London as well as Toulouse and San Francisco, and the young conductor Marco Armiliato, who also directed the Toulouse production, kept things moving and gave the singers plenty of room to express themselves.