Рецензии прошлых постановок
11The set looks airy and minimal, Káťa’s sense of imprisonment and desire for freedom achieved by Alessandro Carletti’s intense use of lighting and high white walls that shut out the world. Three standard visual motifs, drawn from references in the libretto, are brought into play: bird, cage and angel. Magritte’s disturbing birdcage paintings, one of which he pointedly called The Therapist, come to mind. By the end, these symbols have multiplied to the point of distraction. This might irritate more had musical standards not been so outstanding in every quarter, steered by Glyndebourne’s music director, Robin Ticciati.
Michieletto’s production is symbolic and psychological first and foremost. The white set designs by Paolo Fantin suggest an abstract dream space – there is no village or river, only the interior of Kat’a’s mind. Their acute angles are redolent of the kinds of vitrine-like structures that so fascinated Francis Bacon in his paintings; these walls close in on Kat’a at the end of Act one, trapping her in the room with Kabanicha, which then ingeniously segues uninterrupted into the beginning of Act two.
How cruel these old comedies are! Don Pasquale, close to the end of Donizetti’s astonishing and tragically truncated career – this was his 64th opera; only two more were to come – is sometimes spoken of as being rather more nuanced than other examples of the genre. But at core it is the quintessential commedia dell’arte story of young love triumphing over authority in the shape of an old man. Or, to put it another way, it presents, for our approval, the spectacle of an old man being punished for attempting to foil the desires of the young.
“Dei due Sharpless ho preferito Gustavo Castillo (23 febbraio) disinvolto scenicamente, dalla voce ben timbrata e dal fraseggio elegante e intenso“
“La prestazione di Gustavo Castillo (Sharpless) guadagna l’ovazione dalla platea grazie ad una rotondità della pasta vocale e alla grazia con cui il baritono porge ogni frase, coadiuvato da un’ottima pronuncia a dispetto delle origini straniere.“
This story fascinated Christoph Willibald Gluck and his librettist Ranieri de' Calzabigi. On the threshold between the Baroque and Classical periods, the opera, originally based on Ovid's Metamorphoses, was premiered to great acclaim at the Burgtheater in Vienna, 1762. It is this version, in Italian, that is employed here. Paolo Fantin's abstract, minimalist stage design is often transformed thanks to a floating cube that repeatedly reveals a new interior space, a type of heart chamber. This is where the most heartfelt outbursts of emotion take place. This is where Euridice dies, but is also brought back to life with a torrent of water. In Act 2, the entire stage space is transformed into a funnel leading into the underworld, with Orfeo digging his way through what feels like thousands of metres of black material after he has appeased the Furies. Thanks to Alessandro Carletti's very successful lighting, the various scenes and levels of the upper and lower worlds take on additional pastel-coloured dimensions, the psychological significance of which, however, is not immediately apparent. Klaus Bruns provides the timeless, banal costumes for the protagonists – Orfeo and Euridice are like you and me. Choreographer Thomas Wilhelm gives the Furies a life of their own as a unit, just as he conjures up a witty ballet in Act 3, where Euridice's triplicated shadows dissolve again and again, much to Orfeo's consternation. Thanks to Michieletto's detailed direction of the characters, the three soloists give their roles a sense of reality – the ancient myth remains relevant today since the basic emotions of love and trust it deals with are universal and timeless. Michieletto gives the production a bittersweet happy ending by repeating the first scene. All for naught? Amore has the last word. As Orfeo, countertenor Carlo Vistoli is present on stage almost the entire time. Vocally and dramatically he was fully committed, although his timbre did not necessarily have the unearthly sweetness as noted by Gluck, but rather resembled a slender, razor-sharp steel. As Euridice, Nadja Mchantaf was on stage repeatedly from the beginning, but only sings from the second act, venting her anger and frustration at Orfeo with a powerful soprano. Michieletto enhanced the role of Amore and converted the character into a magician, brought to life by Josefine Mindus with a sweet and clear soprano. Amore also undergoes a transformation, from a poorly dressed amateur not quite up to her craft in the first act to a professional magician in a glittering costume by the end. Daniel Bates is known as an Early Music specialist with his ensemble La Nuova Musica. Here he conducted the Komische Oper Orchestra with a somewhat heavy and loud hand at times, the filigree quality of the orchestration often lost. The Vocalconsort Berlin provides the chorus with its commentary function, sometimes as depressed patients in hospital, sometimes as faceless black-clad Furies, always on musical top form.
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
You sometimes hear people describe Don Pasquale as a ‘cruel’ comedy – though they’re often a bit vague as to what they mean. Pin them down and the complaint seems to be that the 70-year-old gentleman who belatedly gets married in the plot is treated cruelly. But Don Pasquale begins the opera by attempting to impose his will upon his nephew’s choice of wife, and disinheriting him when he refuses to comply; any cruelty in the opera starts there. There are undoubtedly tricky moments for director, cast and even the audience to negotiate collectively, most notoriously when during their battle of marital wills in Act III, Norina – Pasquale’s fake bride, whom he has willingly married as part of his scheme to disinherit nephew Ernesto – slaps her elderly husband’s face.
If you want escapist bliss — and who doesn’t right now? — the Royal Opera’s new staging of Donizetti’s comic opera is almost perfect. Almost, because it slightly runs out of steam just before the end. By then, however, I had been richly entertained by Damiano Michieletto’s clever modern-day staging, dazzled by mostly brilliant singing and the scintillating playing of the orchestra under Evelino Pido’s seasoned direction and touched by the acting of a top-notch cast. The latter is most surprising because I thought myself impervious to the “fun” of an opera in which an old man who craves a pretty wife is tricked, bullied and humiliated. Yet his treatment doesn’t feel cruel here. In part that’s because Olga Peretyatko, as the marriage-brokered bride
Not for one moment does the opera tire or bore the audience thanks to the dancers’ choreographies and video art projection onto the screen that render the idea of a magical world. However, it was the quality of the singers and orchestra that ensured the success of the performance. First of all, Cecilia Bartoli, in the title roles, gave an intense unforgettable interpretation, her Alcina was touching, needy, her fear of getting old and losing her power and charm was delivered with the hues of her voice as well as the acting. Philippe Jaroussky was a credible undecisive Ruggiero from the beginning when he was under the spell to the end when he finally finds the courage to break the spell. Sandrine Piau was an amazing Morgana, her coloratura was pure and her acting was very apt to the comic role of this character, Kristina Hammarström gave us a really great interpretation of Bradamante in her resolution to free Ruggiero. The rest of the cast was equally fine, including the young Sheen Park of the Vienna Boys Choir in the difficult role of Oberto. The conductor Gianluca Capuano and the orchestra Les Musiciens du Prince-Monaco are specialist of the baroque repertoire and performed the difficult score with minute attention to details. The show was an amazing experience throughout and, except for a few members of the audience who were clearly nostalgic for old baroque productions, it was greatly appreciated.
