Profilių apžvalgos
1English soprano Keri Fuge commanded the evening with a brilliance only a singer well-versed in the repertoires of early music could produce. It’s evident that she knows every inch of her voice and, more importantly, how to apply her talents. Fuge’s grace, compassion, technical precision, agility, flexibility, dramaturgy, and effortless purity needed to be a true Handelian soprano are a few core components of her expertly crafted instrument. Much like the Greek revivalist architecture by which Handel’s glorious oratorio found its home the night I attended, Fuge perfectly integrated the fragrant aroma of baroque filigree and coloratura-drenched Italianism with the pious and stout choral traditionality of the Germans by which Handel was intimately understood. Her first aria, “Rejoice Greatly,” was a master class in oratorio technique, and because of Fuge’s experience in early music and classical repertoire, a cogent balance between dramaturgy and order was maintained. Her entire range, well-balanced yet so indulgent, was on display throughout the night, “How beautiful are the feet” demonstrated Fuge’s ability for legato perfection. She imbued “I know that my redeemer liveth” with such beauty, grace, and elegance and delivered, in my opinion, the best aria of the night, “If God be for us.” Clean, evocative, and rich, Fuge set a new precedent for what it really means to be a 21st-century oratorio singer.
Ankstesnės produkcijos apžvalgos
4A run of A Midsummer Night's Dream has just concluded in Genoa at Teatro Carlo Felice. A stunningly beautiful production with sets by Gary McCann, and evocative lighting by John Bishop, which created everchanging spaces for the singers. A theatre within the theatre is defined by a coloured ‘proscenium' that subtly shifts colour and intensity. It is raised, which also niftily solves the problem of the court watching the mechanicals' play yet not blocking the view of the paying punters in the stalls. Below the raised stage is a grassy bank where lovers sleep, and magic potion is applied (by an Italian Puck, the only cast member who was not a native English speaker). In the raised theatre only the trunks of trees are seen, trees so enormous that their unseen upper branches reach well beyond the roof of the opera house. The trunks spread out or group together in copses, with projections at the back of the stage – sometimes naturalistic, sometimes creating a dreamscape – producing astonishing depth. Bishop's meticulously shaped lighting makes the space both threatening and joyful.
Hobbling, haggard and pasty, bass João Fernandes brings considered wisdom to a helplessly lecherous Claudio. Doing so with his irresistibly hypnotic and sullen-toned bass instrument coming garnished with the finest vibrato, Fernandes leaves no doubt that his Claudio has emerged anew from near death in a tempest at sea. Rewarded with the power to rule but single-minded in his love for Poppea, the opera's only shining light of moral strength is Claudio's saviour from death, Ottone, to whom Carlo Vistoli imbues with fortified simple-heartedness and a vocally charismatic and wholesome countertenor. Vistoli's Ottone shares his feelings freely and tenderly with Keri Fuge's savvy and seductive Poppea, her bright soprano glistening more and more as the plot progressed. Together, Vistoli and Fuge keep love burning in sight of the debauchery, climaxing in Act III's "Pur ch'io ti stringa al sen" (Ottone) followed by Bel piacere e godere fido amor" (Poppea), to which the pair brought great spellbinding pathos.
During the recent, tumultuous Australian Labor Prime Ministership of Julia Gillard, the country was occasionally supposed to be offered glimpses of “The Real Julia”. Reality is a rare thing in politics these days. So “The Real Julia” probably only emerged when she let her flaming red hair down and made her famous misogyny speech attacking one of her male successors in Parliament. It was so effective, it’s been set to music. Rivalling Nerone to succeed Claudio is Carlo Vistoli’s Ottone. Again, he’s far too impolitically real to achieve the office, though naturally wins the audience's support – and admiration for his manly alto singing – every time he’s done down by Agrippina, Nerone, Claudio and even Poppea, whom he adores. Keri Fuse’s performance in this last role is the joker in my pack. For her white outfit and blond locks ought to hide a black heart in my scheme of things (and so her multiple prick-teasing would suggest). But Ottone’s preference for her over the Imperial throne (“As long as I can hold you in my arms”) does lead us to believe in a change of her heart. What would Monteverdi think?
Graeme Broadbent steals the show as the cynical Satyr who advises the men that marriage will be merely trouble and strife, he projects robust good humour while thrilling us with a gravelly basso profondo. Sky Ingram is a splendid Venus, a magnet for the audience’s attention. Louise Alder’s Eurydice is the pick of the singers for the sublime parts. The set of emotions she has to project isn’t exactly complex, but she puts across Eurydice’s fidelity and despair in an engaging manner, helped by a sweet voice, spot-on intonation and well-turned phrasing.In view of Mary Bevan having a throat infection, the title role was sung by Siobhan Stagg with Bevan acting – the plan is that Stagg will act the role also from the third performance until Bevan’s return. Obviously, having to split the role isn’t ideal, but Bevan put in a sterling effort at mime and Stagg showed that she certainly has the voice for the role. Some of the theatrical tricks worked well. Venus’s transformation into the old crone Alkippe is masterly, and the appearance of the Three Graces in Act II (I won’t give the game away) comes as a real shock. I enjoyed Act III a lot more, when the frantic pace slackened off and we were treated to some truly lovely arias from Stagg’s Orpheus, Alder’s Eurydice and Caitlin Hulcup as Aristaeus - having spent most of the previous two Acts being downtrodden and risible, Hulcup seized her chance to project some real pathos. L’Ormindo, from the same period, by the same company at the same venue, was the best thing I saw last season. Orpheus doesn’t come close to that completeness, but any performance at the Sam Wanamaker is a delight and there’s plenty to enjoy in this production. And it’s worth going out of historical interest alone.
