Il Viaggio a Reims, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, July 2012

This anniversary gala concert united Jette Parker Young Artists with several earlier performers from that programme who have since gone on to international careers, and Il Viaggio a Reims (The Journey to Rheims) was the perfect piece to bring them together. Written by Rossini to celebrate the coronation of Charles X in 1825, it all takes place at a spa hotel, where the staff are preparing their international guests for onward travel next morning to the coronation at Rheims, where French kings had for centuries been anointed. None of the bon vivants actually get to Rheims, owing to a sudden lack of transportation, but they create their own celebration at the hotel before going on to festivities in Paris.

Daniele Rustioni conducted the ENO orchestra on stage, producing just the right tempi and occasionally joining in the fun himself, acting as a stooge for the singers.

With eighteen solo parts this is quite something to put on, but when Madeleine Pierard came on as the French Countess, concerned about the apparent absence of her fine clothes, the performance moved superbly into high gear. She was wonderfully expressive, her coloratura excellent and her voice effortlessly changing amplitude. Marina Poplavskaya was equally fine as Corinna the French poetess, appearing first at stage rear in an elegant grey skirt and jacket and giving a lovely rendering of Arpa gentil. In Part II after a complete absence of transportation has been announced she changed into a long dress for the celebrations they will all make in the hotel itself.

Among the men, Jacques Imbrailo sang in an appropriately commanding voice as the retired German major Baron Trombonok, and at the end of Part I, Lukas Jakobski as the antiquarian Don Profondo gave a wittily entertaining fast monologue, with the conductor hopping up and down on his podium in a Hoffnung-esque performance. Jakobski’s duet earlier in Part I, with Matthew Rose as the Englishman Lord Sidney, was terrific and Rose himself sang with huge power — his rendering of the National Anthem done with a ready wit.

Among the smaller roles I particularly liked Jihoon Kim as the doctor Don Prudenzio, Daniel Grice as Antonio the maître d’hotel, and Zhengzhong Zhou, who appeared as Zeferino on the conductor’s podium to announce the complete absence of horses, upon which Ailish Tynan as a strongly sung countess invites the whole company to Paris. The ending celebrations at the hotel with the various national anthems was super fun, and the whole evening immensely enjoyable.

Good lighting design by Nick Ware made the proscenium arch glow in gold, with the dome above in blue, and house lights low throughout. What a pity it was only a one-off performance.

The Barber of Seville, English Touring Opera, ETO, Hackney Empire, March 2012

Clever designs and glorious costumes by Rhys Jarman give a fine dramatic underpinning for this production of Rossini’s Barber, and Grant Doyle made a marvellous entrance as the barber, Figaro.

All images by Richard Hubert Smith

This was the first night, and after a nervous start things came together in Act II. Kitty Whately made a beautifully inspiring Rosina, mistress of the situation despite the machinations of her guardian Dr. Bartolo along with his friend and her singing teacher Don Basilio. Alan Fairs was a super Basilio, giving this amoral and ridiculous character a slightly threatening aspect in his dealings with Bartolo, and the doctor himself was commandingly performed, with excellent diction, by Andrew Slater, whose attempt at joining the singing lesson in Act II was wittily out of tune. The role of Rosina’s lover, Count Almaviva in his various disguises is not an easy one to pull off well, but after a shaky start, Nicholas Sharratt proved himself a passionate and determined fellow.

Figaro and Almaviva

Direction by Thomas Guthrie gave perhaps too much humour to the stage action at some points, but this might settle down later in the tour. For instance in late Act I when Almaviva surreptitiously shows the police chief his identity the entire police squad is utterly cowed, but then rather strangely a moment later they grab hold of him without the least hesitation. The orchestra under the direction of Paul McGrath was a bit ragged in parts, and I would have liked to see more lightness of touch in the overture where the Rossinian bounce was lacking.

Figaro, Almaviva and Rosina

But in terms of sets, costumes and lighting this is a lovely production, and the singing was very fine. Kitty Whately is someone to watch out for, and Grant Doyle is a superbly versatile performer who played the lead role in a new opera at Covent Garden’s Linbury Studio, which was arguably the best new production the Royal Opera House put on in 2011. He continues in the role until April 13.

After a second performance at the Hackney Empire on Saturday, 10 March, this production tours to: Exeter Northcott, 20, 22, 23 March; Hall for Cornwall, Truro, 26, 28 March; Lighthouse, Poole, 30 March; York Theatre Royal, 3 Apr; Norwich Theatre Royal, 10 Apr; Snape Maltings Concert Hall, 13 Apr; Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield, 16, 18 Apr; The Hawth, Crawley, 20 Apr; G Live Guildford, 23 Apr; Buxton Opera House, 26, 28 Apr; Everyman Theatre, Cheltenham, 1, 3, 4 May; Warwick Arts Centre, 9, 12 May; Gala Theatre, Durham, 14 May; Perth Festival, Perth Theatre, 17, 19 May; Cambridge Arts Theatre, 22, 24, 25 May — for details click here.

William Tell, in concert, Prom 2, Royal Albert Hall, July 2011

This opera is Rossini’s last, fulfilling a commission for a grand opera made five years earlier when he took up residence in Paris. The press had been buzzing with information on its progress, and in his book on Rossini, Francis Toye tells us that “On August 3^rd, 1829, it was finally produced before an audience bursting with curiosity. …  boxes were said to have changed hands for as much as five hundred francs … [and] though [it] was hailed with a salvo of applause by every musician and critic of note, the public remained comparatively indifferent, judging the opera as a whole to be long, cold and boring”. It is long — nearly four hours of music — and usually sustains various cuts. This performance was no exception, but it was gloriously played and sung by the Orchestra and Chorus of the Academy of Santa Cecilia, Rome, conducted by their music director Antonio Pappano, who also directs our own Royal Opera at Covent Garden.

William Tell is a legendary archer, forced to shoot an apple placed on his son’s head, and the opera is based on Schiller’s 1804 play, in which Tell’s actions help inspire a successful insurrection against Austrian rule. Whether he and his nemesis, the tyrannical Austrian reeve, Gessler, really existed is an open question, and the story of an archer who was compelled to shoot an apple from his son’s head goes back to a Danish tale in the Gestae Danorum (Deeds of the Danes) written by Saxo Grammaticus in the late twelfth century, in which the archer was named Toke, and the oppressor was King Harald Bluetooth. As in the Tell story the archer takes two arrows from his quiver and after succeeding with the first one is asked the meaning of the second one. He responds that if the first one killed his son, the second was for the oppressor himself, and he’s then condemned to death.

Historically it’s a fact that in 1273, Rudolf I of Habsburg revoked the Reichsfreiheit enjoyed by the Cantons of Uri, Schwyz and Unterwalden, and there was a tradition that William Tell’s insurrection took place in the early 14^th century. He’s a local hero, and in 1895 a bronze statue to him was erected in Altdorf, the capital of Uri.

The Schiller drama includes an important love interest. The young Arnold, a friend of Tell, is in love with Princess Mathilde of Habsburg, and sympathetic to Austria as a consequence. But learning that Gessler has killed his father he joins the rebels, and after Tell and his son are condemned to death, Mathilde places the boy under her royal protection. The role of Arnold with its multitude of high notes is a difficult one, and was brilliantly sung by John Osborn, with a glorious heroic tinge to his voice. His opening Act IV aria Ne m’abandonne pas elicited justifiably huge applause. Tell’s son Jemmy was sung with great purity and clarity by Elena Xanthoudakis, and Mark Stone stood out in the baritone role of Leuthold, as did Nicolas Courjal in the bass role of Gessler. The other principals and soloists were all strong, and the chorus was magnificent. When they played the role of Swiss Confederates at the end of scene 2 in Act IV the audience gave them tremendous applause.

I find it ironic, not to say amusing, that this opera on freedom from oppression — whose last line is Liberté, redescends des cieux — was produced in Paris in 1829, the year before the second French revolution when the last Bourbon King of France was exiled. However, it went past the censor unscathed, though the Papal States were not as lenient, and as for northern Italy there was predictable trouble with the Austrian authorities — in Milan the hero became William Wallace, the oppressors were the English, and the scene with the apple was taken out.

Rossini’s music for William Tell is fascinating, and one can even see ways in which it foreshadows Wagner — certainly Wagner himself congratulated Rossini on this! It was much admired by other composers, and I’m delighted that Antonio Pappano has brought it to the Proms, and given us such a wonderful performance. The start of the overture with those five solo cellos, and the wonderful horn calls around the upper reaches of the auditorium in the first scene, were gripping. The audience loved it, and time seemed to fly, but what a pity there were so many empty seats.

Le Comte Ory, Metropolitan Opera, live cinema relay, April 2011

This uniquely Rossinian opera — his penultimate — is wonderful fun, and I’m delighted the Met has put it on, and done so in a cinema screening for the whole world to share. It’s not often performed because it needs three superb singers — in the roles of Count Ory, his page Isolier, and the Countess Adele — and the Met did us proud by having Juan Diego Flórez, Joyce DiDonato, and Diana Damrau in these roles. The superb singing and acting from all three was a treat.

All photos: Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera

In its original form this was a one-act vaudeville production by Scribe and Delestre-Poirson, produced eight years previously, and they turned it into an opera for Rossini in 1828. The story is based on the exploits of the libidinous Count Ory, a medieval Don Juan who featured in a well-known Picardy legend. Ory and his page are both enamoured of the Countess Adèle whose husband has departed on one of the Crusades. In Act I, Ory disguises himself as a hermit whose religious virtue and ascetic background can help sad people, such as the lonely Countess, to regain their composure. He does this by telling her she needs a lover to give her a zest for life, and the page Isolier sees his chance. Ory soon dissuades the Countess from such a liaison by telling her the young man is page to the terrible Ory, but then he himself is unmasked by his tutor, who’s been searching for him, and the plan fails. But Ory is a man of ingenuity and in the second act he and his companions dress as nuns and gain entrance to the Countess’s home in the midst of a storm. Lots of fun, particularly in a bedroom scene with Ory, Isolier and the Countess all together in a bed. When the Crusaders return it’s all over.

Rossini’s music is partly adapted from his wonderful earlier creation Il Viaggio a Reims, a sort of cantata-opera written for the coronation of Charles X. It may lack the vitality and flow of L’Italiana or Il Barbieri, but as that great Rossini expert Francis Toye writes, “No score of his shows such elegance, such piquancy, such grace”.

The page and the Countess

The production by Bartlett Sher was set in the eighteenth century, with suitable stage props operated from the side by a master of ceremonies who tapped his stick to tell the orchestra when to start. His comings and goings started before the overture as he walked over the stage within the stage. The glorious costumes by Catherine Zuber came from several time periods, and those for the Countess were magnificent, well matched by Diana Damrau’s brilliantly assured singing of the role, particularly in the top range. As her amorously insistent lover, Juan Diego Flórez made a superb entrance as Ory, disguised as a hermit with an obviously fake beard. His presence was riveting, and in the interval conversation with Renee Fleming we learned that he’d been in attendance at home as his wife gave birth a mere half hour before the performance. Congratulations to the Met for magically transporting him, and presumably his dresser, to the theatre on time!

Ory and the Countess

The page is a trouser role, and though it’s not easy for a woman to appear as a young man, Joyce DiDonato’s performance was as good as it gets. She was utterly convincing, and this is a woman I’ve seen as Rosina in Il Barbieri looking the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen — even in a wheelchair, which she used at Covent Garden in July 2009 after a stage accident. Superlatives fail me.

These three principals were well aided by Stéphane Degout as Ory’s friend Raimbaud, Susanne Resmark as the Countess’s companion Ragonde, and Michele Pertusi as the tutor. Fine conducting by Maurizio Benini kept the singers together beautifully and the ensemble at the end of Act I was simply terrific. A better performance of Le Comte Ory is difficult to imagine, and I would love to see the Met do more Rossini in live screenings.

Armida, Metropolitan Opera live relay, April 2010

Rossini composed Armida shortly after returning to Naples from great success at La Scala in Milan. That was where, following his new opera La Cenerentola in Rome, he created La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie) for the more sophisticated Milanese audience, and they loved it. Rossini could do no wrong, and arriving in Naples in August he found a new libretto waiting for him. Chosen by the reigning impresario Domenico Barbaia, who ran the newly rebuilt Teatro San Carlo, it was a rather fantastical work, not ideally suited to the composer’s tastes. Nevertheless he set to work with unusual conscientiousness, preparing a great soprano role for the company’s prima donna, Isabella Colbran, darling of the Neapolitan public, favourite of the king of Naples, and mistress of Barbaia. He experimented with new harmonies and modulations, but as Francis Toye has written, “he might have spared himself the trouble, for the Neapolitan critics judged the result to be ‘too German’, too learned altogether, disappointingly devoid of spontaneity. Nobody seems to have traced the responsibility to . . . its real cause — the incompetence of the librettist, a certain Schmitt”. This was Giovanni Schmitt, who based his work on the epic poem, La Gerusalemme liberata published in 1581 by Torquato Tasso, telling a fictionalised account of the first Crusade.

Renée Fleming as Armida with the knights in Act I, photo Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Armida herself is a sorceress whose seductiveness creates confusion and divisiveness between the knights when she enters their encampment. She persuades a group of knights to leave with her to recover her lost kingdom, and in the original story turns them into animals, like Circe in Homer’s Odyssey. She intends to kill the leading knight, Rinaldo, but falls in love with him, and in the opera he alone escapes with her, after killing one of the other knights. They enter her magic realm and sing of their love for one another, but this comes to an end in Act III when two knights, Carlo and Ubaldo find their way into Armida’s magical garden to bring Rinaldo back to his military role. When they show him his new effeminacy reflected in a shield, he feels ashamed and is persuaded to regain his mettle and flee with them. Armida tries to restrain him, but loses. She is then faced with a choice between two figures, Love and Revenge. She chooses the latter, destroys her pleasure palace, and flies off in a rage.

Renée Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee in Act II, photo Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

This bel-canto opera needs a really first-rate soprano, and Maria Callas sang the title role in a 1952 revival. Renée Fleming performed it in 1993 at the Rossini festival in Pesaro, and again in this new production for the Met. She sings here with consummate skill and brilliant characterisation, very ably supported by Lawrence Brownlee as Rinaldo. The knights Carlo and Ubaldo who rescue Rinaldo from Armida’s clutches were well sung by Barry Banks and Kobie van Rensburg, and the former also sang strongly as a knight named Gernando whom Rinaldo killed in a duel in Act I. John Osborn sang the role of Goffredo, a knight who persuades the company to support Armida, and Keith Miller gave an admirable portrayal of Astarotte, the prince of darkness in Armida’s realm.

Act III, photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

The production by Mary Zimmerman, with set and costume designs by Richard Hudson, shows Rossini’s original three act version, complete with a ballet in Act II. There is plenty of choreography in one form and another, along with frequent reappearances of the two characters Revenge and Love, the former portrayed by a tattooed man with a fine physique, and the latter as a girl in red dress. As often the case in relatively early operas these days, the sets showed clean lines and bright colours. I’m delighted the Met has broadcast this fine production of a little-known opera, conducted here by Riccardo Frizza, and I only wish their information sheets contained a more complete cast list. For example in this opera, Keith Miller who sang the bass role of Astarotte, and was interviewed by Deborah Voigt in the second intermission, was not listed.

Il Turco in Italia, Royal Opera, April 2010

Rossini was just 22 when he composed this delightful opera, following his great success with Tancredi and L’Italiana in Algeri when he was 20 and 21. The libretto is brilliant — the work of Felice Romani, arguably the greatest Italian librettist of his day. His texts came slightly later than those of Lorenzo da Ponte who wrote the librettos for three of Mozart’s greatest operas, including Cosi fan tutti which, like Turco, features an older man who is planning the whole story. Where Cosi has Don Alfonso, Turco has a poet and opera librettist, Don Prosdocimo, portrayed here by a charming Italian named Thomas Allen, the same name as a well-known English opera singer — perhaps they were the same person. They certainly looked the same, but the Italian was so fluent and natural . . . words fail me — he was wonderful. Added to that we had the superbly comic Alessandro Corbelli as Don Geronio, a cuckold whose younger wife, the flighty and sexy Fiorilla was delightfully played by Aleksandra Kurzak. She looked a real temptress with her mischievous manner and gorgeous dresses. No wonder she had a lover, a young fellow called Don Narciso, very ably sung by Colin Lee. But as soon as the very handsome Ildebrando d’Arcangelo landed in Italy as Selim the Turk, she went for him, and he for her. After a brief acquaintance they immediately go off to her husband’s house and jump into bed together, just below the picture of an erupting volcano.

This brings me to the sparkling production by Moshe Leiser and Patrice Courier with colourful sets by Christian Fenouillat, lit by Christophe Forey, and 1960s costumes by Agostino Cavalca. It’s La dolce vita, and at one point the Turk, Don Geronio and Don Narciso arrive on stage by taxi, Fiat Cinquecento, and motor scooter. Don Narciso sported an Elvis quiff of hair and a comb, fitting that same period when Elvis Presley was producing songs such as It’s Now or Never, with its melody taken from the old Neapolitan song O Sole Mio.

The story is full of twists and turns, and includes a gypsy girl named Zaida, well sung by Leah-Marian Jones, who has left Selim’s household but still loves him. There are scenes of two women pulling at one man, and two men competing for the same woman. There is a very funny restaurant scene with Thomas Allen and Alessandro Corbelli, which later becomes an argument between Corbelli and d’Arcangelo, lifting chairs and charging each other. When the waiter tries to intervene he is caged between the legs of the two chairs. The directors have made such hilarious incidents appear entirely natural, though of course they have had wonderful performers to work with, and earlier in the week when Alessandro Corbelli gave an extended interview at the Royal Opera House, his slight pauses before answering showed a natural comic timing.

And then of course . . . there is the music. As soon as the overture started, the conductor, Maurizio Benini gave Rossini plenty of fizz, and during the performance he allowed the singers freedom with their comic timing, while keeping the orchestra in phase with the stage action. Rossini’s music is full of fun, and this production has a sense of spontaneity, as if it were Commedia dell’arte. The stylized sea, and the evening scene with a crescent moon in an azure sky, recalled for me the song “It’s only a paper moon over a cardboard sea”. But Thomas Allen switched on the moon, and everything was magic. What a shame there was a sprinkling of empty seats in the higher price categories. Perhaps this was owing to the Easter weekend, but the Amphitheatre and the slips were full of appreciative opera lovers.

Lohengrin, Deutsche Oper Berlin, Wagner Wochen, February 2010

This Götz Friedrich production, with sets and costumes by Peter Sykora, has a warmth and immediacy that emphasises the human weaknesses and machinations of the story. Friedrich’s excellent staging is well supported by the performers, particularly Waltraud Meier, who plays the evil Ortrud with subtle malice, and Eike Wilm Schulte, who portrays a fiercely tendentious Telramund with a commanding voice — this nasty pair both exhibit great stage presence. King Henry the Fowler was beautifully sung by Markus Brück, and Elsa was well portrayed, with suitable frailty, by Ricarda Merbeth. She sang well and I only wish she’d shown less tension in her face during Act I, as I prefer to see Elsa exhibit sublime confidence in finding a champion against the malicious accusations that she has killed her young brother Gottfried. The hero she awaits, who will defeat Telramund and his sorceress-wife Ortrud, is Lohengrin himself. This was Ben Heppner, who sang out boldly with great lyricism, though his stage presence was mainly notable by its absence.

The orchestra was excellently conducted by Michael Schønwandt, and I loved the horns on stage, and later off-stage. These were glorious instruments without valves, beautifully played by Gerhard Greif, Kurt Kratz, Ulrich Riehl and Joachim Weigert. The staging and the music were both very fine, and the lighting was quite remarkable. The gradual fade-outs on Telramund and Ortrud, and the glow on Elsa, were particularly well done. The bridesmaids and church choristers were nice touches in this production, and as Elsa enters the church at the end of Act II she pauses to look back at Ortrud, a moment that was well lit and dramatically emphasised.

Although Lohengrin is my least favourite Wagner opera — I find Act II overlong, and have a secret admiration for Rossini’s alleged comment that, “One can’t judge Wagner’s opera Lohengrin after a first hearing, and I certainly don’t intend hearing it a second time” — this production is wonderful, and perhaps the best I’ve ever seen.

Review — Il Barbiere di Siviglia, Royal Opera, July 2009

“Give us more Barbers”, said Beethoven to Rossini, and he was quite right. This opera is unsurpassable of its type, and its type is what Rossini was so good at. In this 2005 production by Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier we had a marvellous cast. Unfortunately Juan Diego Flores did not perform, but Colin Lee took over his role as Almaviva, and with Alessandro Corbelli as Doctor Bartolo, Ferruccio Furlanetto as Don Basilio, and Pietro Spagnoli as Figaro we had an excellent complement of male singers, who all sang extremely well. Ferruccio Furlanetto and Alessandro Corbelli are terrific singing actors with perfect comic timing, but what really made the evening was Joyce DiDonato as Rosina. Having broken her leg on the first nght, she was reduced to a wheelchair, but this did nothing to spoil her charm, her voice, or her ability to move around stage in anxious coquettishness. In fact the wheelchair was a most effective prop, amply demonstrating her entrapment. Who knows that it might not be used deliberately in another production!

The costumes by Agostino Cavalca are quite delightful, and match the stage design by Christian Fenouillat, which has hidden sliding doors that when closed make the house a box-like prison. It is a very clever production and I applaud the Royal Opera for bringing in such excellent directors for this and other popular operas. I only wish they could do the same for some of the twentieth century operas that they delight in putting on to bizarre productions by directors who are trying to be too clever by half.

The conducting by Antonio Pappano was very good as usual, though I felt it dragged a bit towards the end. The lighting design by Christoph Forey is wonderful, but the spot on Rosina, forced to be at the front of the stage in her wheelchair, was frequently absent. This is something that should have been fixed in earlier performances, since it is not the first one in which she was stage-front in a wheelchair.

La Cenerentola, live relay from the Metropolitan Opera, New York, May 2009

As the pompous father, Don Magnifico we had the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli, whom I saw at Covent Garden and at Glyndebourne in 2007. He is simply wonderful, playing the part quite straight because, as he said in an intermission interview, these ridiculous people do not realise they are ridiculous. His two fancy daughters, the ‘ugly sisters’ were well played by Rachelle Durkin and Patricia Risley, again without overdoing the farce. As Dandini the valet we had Simone Alberghini, doing a great job of playing up to the idea of being prince for a couple of days, and loving it. As to the serious characters, John Relyea’s commanding voice and strong stage presence made him an unusually powerful prince’s tutor. Lawrence Brownlee was a beautifully voiced prince who sang like a god, though his short stature was an awkward disadvantage as he couldn’t measure up to the poise and beauty of Elina Garanča as Cenerentola, the household slave and third daughter of Don Magnifico who is roundly abused by her half sisters and father. While she was the star of the show, Alessandro Corbelli was superb with his perfect comic timing, particularly in the wine tasting scene, and later when dispossessed of his illusions in the duet with Dandini.

The production by Cesare Lievi, with set and costume designs by Maurizio Balo and lighting by Gigi Saccomandi, worked very well, and the camera work was excellent. The conducting by Maurizio Benini was full of élan and the ensemble pieces were sung to perfection. There was just one serious glitch, at least in the cinema I was in, because the sound was slightly behind the camera work, making the performers look as if they were miming their parts to pre-recorded vocalizations. Let us hope this never happens again.