Tidigare produktion recensioner
4During curtain call in contemporary productions of Madame Butterfly, I'd guess that any poor tenor playing Lt. B.F. Pinkerton usually gets a mix of applause and hisses. That's because he must carry the burden of all that is associated with his role: American imperialism, racial and cultural prejudice, male chauvinism, and the predatory treatment and cruel manipulation of a 15-year-old girl. In the 113 years since Giacomo Puccini penned the opera, societal attitudes have evolved to make the tale of the innocent geisha Cio-Cio-San as painful as it is tragic. In Austin Opera's staging – the final production of a successful season – Dominick Chenes displays agility in the role of Pinkerton, at first projecting the unapologetic sliminess one expects from the loathsome naval officer, but later effectively conveying the cowardice, guilt, and panic that Pinkerton feels when he returns to Nagasaki with his "real" American wife, Kate, and discovers the son that he fathered with Cio-Cio-San before leaving Japan three years before. Indeed, Chenes is so effective that one is left wondering if Pinkerton will be able to live on after fully realizing his grave sin. Perhaps poor Butterfly is avenged after all? As the wronged Cio-Cio-San, soprano Yunah Lee sings with a light and silvery timbre, though her voice itself doesn't come off here as sizable or flexible. On opening night, breath-support issues were evident in Lee's tendency to lean back significantly, creating a stiff posture that limited the fluidity in her vocal range and acting – she seemed to lack connection to Chenes in Act I, for example. Act III, however, was her strongest vocally; The moment Butterfly first saw her child – Adi Dhall, positively angelic as Cio-Cio-San's beloved son – Lee lost herself in her role, and the final moments between mother and son were heartbreaking. As Kate Pinkerton, the woman who agrees to raise the child of her husband and Butterfly, Kathryn Grumley makes the most of her brief time onstage. Her voice possesses a rich, caramel quality that beautifully suits her character's choices as she sings the role with elements of sadness, fear, and remorse. Providing notable support are Michael Chioldi, an impressive baritone whose rich tone and gorgeous, dark timbre, coupled with his soulful, honest approach to Sharpless, makes his my favorite performance; mezzo-soprano Mika Shigematsu, who conveys a very noble and quiet strength within the character of Suzuki and creates my favorite moments of the production; and local baritone Austin Siebert, whose performance as both the Imperial Commissioner and Prince Yamadori is a surprise standout of the production, showing a warmth in tone that's well-suited to his versatility. The Austin Opera Chorus, rehearsed by Julian Reed, is clear and rich, and each chorus member has a well-defined character. My only criticism is that the iconic humming chorus in Act II – a moment the audience waits for – is a bit too subtle and distanced. Maestro Richard Buckley, as always, brings his emotionally charged, Verdian-styled approach to his craft, and, aside from the smallest slip in the woodwinds for a brief moment, the orchestra on opening night was flawless, lush, and robust. John Gunter's set is one of simple elegance. Because there are no scene changes, the passage of time relies solely on the exquisite lighting design of James Sale. Its subtle, gradual shifts with the passing of each day possess a peaceful, mesmerizing quality. Japanese culture is full of reverence to nature, and the carefully timed lighting pays homage to this tradition. Stage Director Garnett Bruce's detailed style of direction, the time he takes with each and every cast member, and his clear vision for the operas he stages, lead to productions that are smooth and flawless. Even with all the baggage that Madame Butterfly bears in the 21st century, it's still one of Puccini's best-loved works, and Austin Opera delivers a lovely staging of it.
Rossini's The Barber of Seville is—and except for its 1816 opening night, always has been—great fun. Classic comic types are here, familiar from a tradition stretching to the present from early Roman comedies and the commedia dell'arte: a yearning ingénue (the soprano) about to be married off to an unsuitable suitor (a bass); the clever, handsome young man courting her in disguise (a tenor) with the help of a comic trickster (a baritone). Librettist Cesare Sterbini reprises the story of a 1775 Beaumarchais play, a familiar, stereotypical storyline with the predictable happy ending. Perhaps unfortunately for Rossini, the plot had already been turned into three other Italian operas by as many composers, and fans of the most recent one disrupted the first performance of this work. It didn't help that Rossini's cast and orchestra were sadly underrehearsed. They'd put it together in only two weeks. Stock characters and predictable plots will disappear quickly—unless they're transformed by genius (vide W. Shakespeare). Rossini's glorious melodies impel the characters through increasingly farcical antics. More than two centuries after its first performance, this work is alive and sparkling, one of the most familiar in the repertoire. That very fact poses a challenge. How do a director and design team avoid rendering this revered two-hundred-year-old in a fashion that's not threadbare and overfamiliar? A deep-red display confronting the arriving audience roused misgivings. What kind of fun could be expected behind this elaborate reference to Salvador Dalí's grim black-and-white film Un Chien Andalou? Utah Opera announced that Michael Shell's "vivacious and eccentric" staging would open in March, 2020. COVID hit. It got onstage only in September of 2021. Schell pays homage to Spanish cinema director Pedro Almódovar. He wanted the production firmly anchored in Spain (Seville, after all!). Almódovar's films are quirky and often surrealistic, although with distortions of reality distinctly different from those of Dalí. They also provide latitude for more fluid interpretations of character and sexuality. The design team picked up Shell's ideas and tore off at a happy gallop. Costume designer Amanda Seymour's comic invention in fabric colors and accessories, sets by Shoko Kombar recycled from a 2014 Philadelphia production, and lighting designer Driscoll Otto's rapid, dazzling imaginations create bright absurdist visuals that demonstrate how happily malleable this libretto is. Imagine the flat-hatted Spanish guardia civil in canary-yellow jodphurs and flaming teal tunics; a strolling matador in an emphatically pink cape; and a crowd of supernumeraries that includes itinerant musicians and a stilt-walker. The design elements are as happily absurdist as the plot elements. Austin Opera recruited outstanding international talent for this staging. Each principal has a bio of twenty lines or more of top-flight credits with companies and venues across the world. No need to study those, however; just listen and marvel. Stage director Gregory Boyle's onstage business is endlessly inventive. The cast plays it with glee. Conductor Stephanie Rhodes Russell appears only with a bob of her head in the spotlight at the start of each act, finally revealing herself at the curtain call; under her direction the orchestra sizzles. Tenor Jack Swanson as Count Almavira the secret suitor has the charm of a fraternity boy and the comic spring of a born performer; Figaro is Emmett O'Hanlon of the flowing locks, tall, confident, and responsive in gesture, expression and reaction. Austin native Lauren Snouffer is the sweetly desireable Rosina, pure of voice and saucy of demeanor. South African bass Musa Ngqungwana has great comic presence and rotundity as guardian Dr. Bartolo (in this version, an opthalmologist who's too worried about Rosina's escapades to pay any attention to his patients). And for Austin theatre aficionados, there's an odd little gem of a non-speaking role, a sleepy, bent, and Igor-like figure in dark glasses shuffling about the stage, who's none other than Austin master of all things theatrical Robert Faires! There's a bonus, and it doesn't come at the end. If you arrive at 6:30 p.m., an hour before the curtain, you can attend a particularly enjoyable half-hour presentation by UT faculty member Charles Carson. Affable, relaxed, and witty, Dr. Carson mixes personal anecdote with his orientation to the conventions and history of The Barber of Seville. He alerts us to some little surprises we might otherwise overlook. Austin Opera's staging is a thoroughly entertaining evening. You could even turn off the sound and have a good time (but don't do that—you'll miss some of today's most dazzling vocal performers!).
Everything about Austin Opera’s colorful production of Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville” exudes energy, from the music, conducted by Stephanie Rhodes Russell to the performances, which are without exception funny and memorable. This production, originally by Michael Shell and stage directed for Austin Opera by Gregory Boyle, is set in a lively version of Spain populated by festive citizens including flamenco dancers, a stilt walker, and a cotton-candy salesman. The mise-en-scene, with costumes by Amanada Seymour and sets designed by Shoko Kambara, incorporates elements of 17th century dress, bold 1960s patterns, and nods to iconic surrealist Spanish films through recurring eye and rooster motifs. Performing his famous aria “Largo al Factotum,” the titular barber, Figaro (baritone Emmett O’Hanlon), sweeps onto stage and steals the show, dripping with bravado. It’s easy to see why the opera’s hero, Count Almaviva (tenor Jack Swanson), turns to him, the most charismatic man in town, for advice. A major part of the opera’s humor comes through the disguises Count Almaviva adopts in his attempts to get close to his beloved Rosina (soprano Lauren Snouffer). Almaviva’s impersonation of a drunk soldier sends the house into a riot. When the city guard piles in to break it up, they triple the scale of the spectacle and chaos. Fortunately, the Count, a celebrity in this world, is able to hold up a magazine with face on the cover and selectively reveal himself to the head officer (baritoneJake Skipworth), dodging trouble and turning the city guard against his rival (and Rosina’s possessive guardian), Doctor Bartolo (bass-baritone Musa Ngqungwana). When Count Almaviva returns as a chilled-out music instructor, wearing floral print and a leather vest, holding a sitar, and endlessly wishing pace, gioa (peace, joy) to an impatient Doctor Bartolo, the choice is so perfect it’s hard to believe the libretto wasn’t written with this hippie interpretation in mind. Trying to conduct a music lesson and simultaneously communicate with Rosina while Doctor Bartolo looks on, Almaviva commits to the silliness of the hippie character, contorting himself into yoga poses and waving sage around the room. Rosina, meanwhile, is portrayed by Austin-born soprano Lauren Snouffer as strong-willed and impulsive. Eager to escape from the drudgery of helping with Doctor Bartolo’s optometrist’s practice, she is willing to make her own schemes to deceive the doctor and elope with the man she loves. In scenes throughout “Barber of Seville,” Rossini and librettist Cesare Sterbini make use of characters’ long-windedness for laughs. In one instance, characters sing about the urgency they feel instead of running away, and end up trapped. In another, Rosina, Doctor Bartolo, Count Almaviva and Figario all implore Don Basilio (bass William Guanbo Su) to leave the house, but despite trying every technique in the book, from shunning to bribery, he lingers. As these scenes play on, the situations escalate, becoming more theatrical. Austin Opera’s zany “Barber of Seville” plays up the opera’s farcical elements, and is full of surprises. At one point, the surrealist elements of the set design even come to life in a dream sequence featuring chicken-headed dancers. The buoyant music animates the comic plot, and every song is dazzling. It’s a truly delightful, can’t-miss production.
Credit must also be made to her hilarious group of back-up performers, a trio of nymphs played in perfect balance by Sara Ann Mitchell, Claudia Chapa, and Megan Pachecano.
