Recenzijas par iepriekšējiem iestudējumiem
15This opera and Warner’s production show very clearly Otello’s descent into jealous madness, contrasted with the jubilant scenes at the start, where the wonderful movement among the actors forms a prelude to his victorious arrival after defeating the Saracens in the eastern Mediterranean.
Keith Warner’s 2017 production at London’s Royal Opera House, now revived, takes us beyond these shores into the darkest corners of Otello’s tower. Gregory Kunde sings the titular role of Otello. He steps into Jonas Kaufmann’s shoes. No easy task. But Kunde has become a familiar face at the ROH, performing three times in as many years since his 2016 debut. And he can clearly hold his own.
Of the three principals, Marcelo Álvarez was most successful at integrating a strain of lyricism into an otherwise dramatic role. His Dick Johnson stood apart from the patrons of the Polka bar not only in sartorial terms – his crisp black suit put him immediately at odds with the jeans and flannel around him – but in his suave, supple delivery, especially his elegantly sculpted expressions of feeling for Minnie at the end of the first act. As Jack Rance, Michael Volle distinguished himself as much through intelligence as force; he was the most charismatically dangerous figure on stage, yet his glowering, contemptuous manner with the miners made his brief flashes of humanity all the more disarming. He was also an ideal vocal partner for Ms Kampe, and in an opera full of grandly-wrought emotion, the palpable malice in the scenes between Minnie and Rance emerged as perhaps the most authentic; for all the production’s visual flash, it was the simple confrontation between these two forces that provided the evening with its greatest excitement.
The Italian director Damiano Michieletto put himself in the critical doghouse with his Covent Garden production of Guillaume Tell earlier this year, thanks to a rape scene which gave enormous offence. But his crime was a matter of tone: in an otherwise stylised production, the aggressively in-your-face naturalism of that scene was grotesquely misplaced.
In Damiano Michieletto’s new production of this famous double bill, the stories are presented straightforwardly and the tragedies perfectly defined. Among the singers, soprano Eva-Maria Westbroek is a standout
Count Almaviva was well taken by Argentinean Germán E Alcántara (...)in his first major role here, showed vocal and histrionic gifts. In the Act 2 altercation with the Countess his violent side was visibly and vocally only just in check, an aristocrat aware he is losing control of events.
He was widely admired as the grand old man of Italian opera but had not produced a new work since Aida some 15 years earlier. Yet Otello features some of his most powerful music, bursting with impressive originality and energy. With a very strong cast and Antonio Pappano conducting, Covent Garden does glorious justice to this fine work.
It’s good to have expectations confounded. For much of his career, American tenor Gregory Kunde specialised in bel canto repertoire, his light, flexible voice ideal for Rossini with easy top notes that also meant he could tackle Berlioz’ stratospheric tenor roles like Énée and Benvenuto Cellini with distinction. In recent years though, Kunde has taken an unexpected lurch into heavier repertoire. I was unconvinced by his Manrico and approached his Otello in this first revival of Keith Warner’s production at The Royal Opera with trepidation, having missed him when he played second fiddle to Jonas Kaufmann in 2017.
It tells the tale of the 16th century Russian tsar Boris Godunov who seized power after the death of Ivan the Terrible, allegedly after supervising the murder of Ivan's son, and went on to be almost as terrible as his predecessor. In the opera, he is plagued with guilt and ends up going mad, so the whole thing becomes a case history of increasing derangement. Most unusually, there is no major role for a woman singer, so there are no great soprano arias to liughten the musical mood, and it is Boris who dies at the end after the plot has meandered through the darker realms of insanity. The credit for the power of this scene goes equally to Terfel and the director, Richard Jones, and his team, whose striking design and costumes provide a visual treat matching the power of the music. Jones does, however, rather overdo a repeated vision tormenting Boris of the murder of Ivan's son which brought Boris to power.With Bryn Terfel as Boris dominating the show, all other roles are reduced to bit parts, but it is worth mentioning John Tomlinson as a drunken monk, who provided a much needed comic interlude to interrupt the sombre tale. As always, however, Bryn Terfel is well worth seeing and the intensity drawn from the orchestra by Antonio Pappano is magnificent.
rigolo's tenor has an appealing combination of clarity, openness and warmth. There's never any doubt that a phrase will be well turned with any high notes hit cleanly. Technically, Grigolo is highly impressive when it's time for the pianissimi or fine dynamic control. His matinée idol looks make him thoroughly credible as the youthful poet, and if I'm going to nit pick, the one imperfection to point out is in his acting: he convinces completely when playing the ardent lover, less so as the desperate suicide. DiDonato's creamy-smooth mezzo is totally capable of anything that Massenet can throw at it and she sings Charlotte with an assurance that belies the fact that this is the first time she has done so on stage (she sang the role in concert in Paris in April). Timbre, dynamics and phrasing are all wonderful, but it's a very difficult role to characterise: Charlotte has to combine being the epitome of propriety and adherence to duty on the outside with repressed inner passions on the inside, allowing these to burst through to the surface only in the last act. DiDonato did a decent job of making so conflicted a character seem real, and she and Grigolo had good chemistry between them, but I don't know that I ever really suspended disbelief. Antonio Pappano brought some fine playing from the Royal Opera orchestra to bring us the orchestral colour and the romantic sweep of the piece. There were several well rendered instances of the Wagnerian trick (much emulated in film music) of letting the audience hear what's going to happen in the music slightly before the events actually happen on stage.Charles Edwards sets are easy on the eye (I particularly like the Act II promenade with its stone steps and acute perspective) and frame the action well; revival director Andrew Sinclair handles the action effectively: the scenes of domestic bliss in Act I, when Charlotte is being mummy to her gaggle of younger siblings, were nicely poignant. The orchestral playing is excellent, the production is highly competent all round and there are two great singers in the lead roles. If you're a Massenet fan, it's well worth catching.
“Well, I think my Norma is something in between Maria Callas and Cecilia Bartoli.” Sonya Yoncheva, stepping into the title role at Covent Garden when Anna Netrebko decided Norma wasn't for her after all, was giving herself plenty of wriggle room when interviewed last month in The Sunday Times. Perhaps it was good she raised the spectre of Callas herself, because plenty of others would have been ready to do so. In the end, Yoncheva's Norma is a good deal closer to the legendary Greek soprano on the vocal spectrum than many would have wagered.Joseph Calleja's warm vibrato and liquid golden tone is a throwback to the age of Björling, Gigli and Tagliavini – a far cry from the clarion tenors often associated with the role of the Roman proconsul Pollione. He suffered a few intonation issues at the start, but quickly settled to deliver a performance which almost made Pollione sympathetic, despite being the love-rat in the nest.Act II opens on an unsettling domestic scene – Norma's children blithely playing with Scalextric and a Spacehopper while Watership Down is aired on the flatscreen television (Richard Adams' timid rabbit Fiver referencing the Druid's clairvoyant powers?). Ever the practical priestess, Norma lays down plastic sheeting to minimise the mess as she prepares to commit infanticide. Revealing that she has betrayed her vows, Norma condemns herself to the sacrificial pyre. Crucifixes begin to glow as a giant cross flickers animated flames to which Norma and Pollione seem destined, before a cruel twist at the end denies her that Brünnhilde-like immolation. Pay attention, or you'll miss it! A striking production and a terrifically enjoyable evening, especially for Yoncheva's superb assumption of the title role.
Elizabeth DeShong, making her Royal Opera debut, was a terrific Suzuki, her ripe, plum-toned mezzo fabulously dark in its lowest register. She turned on Carlo Bosi's wheedling marriage-broker with real venom and the Flower Duet with Jaho was beyond sublime.In the minor roles, Yuriy Yurchuk was a stately Yamadori – the prince offering Cio-Cio San a way out – and Jeremy White reprised his splenetic Bonze with vigour.Sir Antonio Pappano conjured miracles from the Covent Garden pit. Even the ROH brass was on its best behaviour in a tingling orchestral account. It's a blessing to have heard, in a single season, the world's two finest Puccini conductors (the other being Riccardo Chailly at La Scala) take the helm for this exquisite score. I fear any remaining tickets for this run (at least with Jaho as Butterfly) will be like gold dust, but Thursday's performance (30th March) is being broadcast live into cinemas if you want to net the greatest performance of the title role I've yet witnessed.
Vratogna is in total command, vocally and dramatically, ever alert to the sinuous subtleties of Verdi’s most flexible score, dark and menacing, and ruthless in his racist determination to destroy his man. He knows instinctively that all devious schemers can present a plausible face to the world while sowing seeds of doubt in malleable minds. Vratogna took over the role just three weeks ago (just as he stepped in as Scarpia three years ago) and it was he, not Kaufmann, who drew and deserved the greatest ovation on opening night.That storm scene introduces another character to the piece in this new production: the set itself. Designer Boris Kudlička has built a clever, shape-shifting tunnel that fragments and slides, lit starkly by Bruno Poet to emphasise Otello’s descent into jealous madness, or bathed in soft, golden hues when hidden rooms and courtyards are revealed behind attractive Moorish tracery. The set both brilliantly frames and comments on the drama, and is suitably ambiguous for a production that consciously moves away from the realism of Moshinsky’s Renaissance world towards an expressionism that more closely reflects Verdi’s most daringly fluid score.The Italian soprano Maria Agresta makes an implacable Desdemona, devastated yet dignified in the face of Otello’s false accusations of adultery and singing with a tender yet creamy intensity, never more so than in Piangea cantando nell’erma landa and her heartfelt Ave Maria, moments before her demise. The Canadian tenor Frédéric Antoun is a lithely elegant Cassio, and among the smaller roles, Estonian mezzo Kai Rüütel as Emilia and Korean bass In Sung Sim really make their mark.
Any opportunity to see the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House excavated from its pit is to be welcomed, and a memorable performance of Verdi’s Messa da Requiem saw them perform in unison with the excellent Royal Opera Chorus, which continues to bloom under its director William Spaulding. Benjamin Bernheim’s tenor gave real force to the quartet; gleaming and incisive, his voice is the vocal equivalent of a knockout punch, with an energy to it that brought dynamism to the performance. Of the four, his attention to text and the feeling that was infused with what he was singing stood out, particularly in the vibrant delivery of the Kyrie. He exhibited a strong high register and the confidence to deploy it effectively.Gábor Bretz provided a smooth, chocolatey underlay with his distinct bass. Phrasing was elegant and he showed a full uncompromising lower register that melded serenely against the orchestra, and providing operatic intensity to the Confutatis. Mezzo-soprano Jamie Barton completed the quartet, wielding a cavernous lower register that offered a rewarding contrast against Davidsen’s bright top. The orchestra, who from the opening with the sensitive solo cello gave a subtle and dynamic performance. Full credit to the brass section whose intensity reinforced the power of the Dies irae. Perhaps what stood out most was the silence at the end; held back by Pappano, the audience was most responsive in its quietude. A very apt way to end this splendid performance.
