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20[...] la création mondiale de "Seven Stones", commande d'Aix-en-Provence, est comme une pierre blanche dans l’histoire de l’opéra. [...] Le public sort d’un épais silence d’étonnement et de concentration, pour saluer très longuement un moment fort de la création lyrique contemporaine. [...]
Carnet d’Aix #2 Seven Stones – Eric Oberdorff [...] Seven Stones, produit en symbiose par le compositeur Ondrej Adamek, l’écrivain Sjon et le metteur en scène Eric Oberdorff est une oeuvre fascinante, d’une inventivité saisissante. [...] Le plaisir qui se dégage de l’écoute et de la vision du spectacle est dû notamment à un immense travail de précision et d’engagement réalisé par tous les participants et exécutants de l’oeuvre ; chaque proposition musicale, visuelle, corporelle semble couler de source et se fondre dans la suivante. Il se constitue ainsi une ligne claire du récit qui allie pourtant mystère et symbolique. [...]
Ray Chenez lui donne la réplique et impose un Néron capricieux, cruellement infantile, capable surtout du pire et certes pas du meilleur. Sa tessiture est complètement bluffante. On est clairement très au-dessus de ce qu’on attend d’un contre-ténor
A commencer par le contre-ténor étasunien Ray Chenez qui compose un Néron névrotique et sadique, avec un regard et une expression inquiétants, et qui convainc sans réserve autant par le jeu, très vif, que par le chant, d’une exceptionnelle autorité.
Le reste de la distribution est exclusivement masculin, toutes les hauteurs possibles étant représentées. Parmi les soupirants d’Aldimira figurent deux contre-ténors, pour qui ont été choisis deux timbres idéalement opposés, l’un plutôt « jarousskyen », l’autre plutôt « fagiolien ». Jakub Józef Orliński séduit par des aigus limpides, apolliniens, qui ne l’empêchent nullement de trouver des accents expressifs fort bienvenus. Face à lui, Carlo Vistoli nous prouve différemment que ce type de voix n’est en rien condamné au beau son dépourvu de chair ou d’âme : mobilisant toutes les ressources de son chant, jusqu’aux plongées occasionnelles dans un grave barytonant, l’artiste parvient sans peine à émouvoir dans son rôle d’infidèle revenant à ses premières amours lorsqu’il apprend qu’il l’avait délaissée Erismena pour courtiser celle dont il ignorait qu’elle était sa propre sœur. Troisième prétendant à la main d’Aldimira, le roi Erimante est confié à Alexander Miminoshvili, basse assez déliée pour pratiquer le recitar cantando mais assez profonde pour descendre vers les notes les plus sombres. Mention spéciale pour Stuart Jackson, l’indispensable nourrice-ténor ici devenue une sorte de géante hommasse, qui n’a pas besoin d’en rajouter pour être impayable et dont la voix de trompette distille toute une série de petites phrases bien senties. Des trois confidents, le baryton Andrea Bonsignore est sans doute celui qui a les interventions les plus développées, mais ses confrères contre-ténor (Tai Oney, dans un rôle tenu par René Jacobs à Bruxelles en 1974) et ténor (Jonathan Abernethy) sont loin de démériter.
Erismena in Aix was an incredible feat, captivating its audience for nearly three hours, evoking a thunderous applause. Its dramatis personae seducing us with their airs and ariosos, their elaborate recitatives and a final madrigal sung by its two sets of lovers, four soprano voices interweaving with such sweetness that we too drowned in their eternal raptures of love. This weighty production effort was effectively absorbed, even eclipsed by the individual performances. Italian soprano Francesca Aspramonte sculpted the title role disguised as a warrior in clear tone, making impressive use of the Italian rolled “r” to aggravate her chagrin (she has lost her lover Idraspe to Aldimira), Italian counter-tenor Carlo Vistoli brought sensitivity and strength to Idraspe (who finally, hours later, recognized Erismena). British soprano Susanna Hurrell as Aldimira negotiated her nymphomania with soprano-esque verve, Polish counter-tenor Jakub Jósef Orliński dazzled us with some spectacular breakdance move declaring his love for Aldimira. These four artists delivered the final, mesmerizing, four part madrigal.
It is not difficult to understand why “The Magic Flute” is the most frequently played of all operas. The play is full of adventurous moments and features some of operatic literature’s most iconic characters. The arias to the Queen of the Night and Papageno are also in the public domain. Nevertheless, it is difficult to get away from the fact that “The Magic Flute” is close to a disaster from a theatrical point of view. “The Magic Flute” An opera in two acts with music by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and libretto by Emanuel Schikaneder (1751–1812). Called “Die Zauberflöte” in German. Premiered in Vienna on 30 September 1791. Combines recitative (song-like speech) with spoken dialogue between the song sequences. It is also originally in German, and was intended for a more popular audience than the Italian operas. The opera is among the most performed in the world. Source: Wikipedia Saved by the director The plot borders on the absurd and incomprehensible, the message of exalted male wisdom struggles with credibility, to say the least, and the jokes cannot always be said to have stood the test of time. If you look at artistically ambitious productions from the last decade, you get the impression that “The Magic Flute” is an opera that must be saved from its own embarrassments through extensive directing. British Simon McBurney’s strategy is to let a virtuosic idiom draw attention away from the weaknesses of the opera’s content. Something he succeeds in, at least a good distance on the way. Clear from the start McBurney’s ambition is clear even before the performance begins. When the audience enters the hall, the conductor is already seated in front of the orchestra, in an orchestra pit that is only partially submerged. The overture starts brusquely already while the light in the hall is on. When the light is gradually lowered in the hall, the performance’s stage space emerges more clearly. It consists mainly of a black open stage containing only a wide platform attached to scaffolding with wires in each corner. DARK: The scenography mainly consists of a wide platform. Photo: Magnus Skrede / BNO The platform functions in a number of ways throughout the performance: as a defined stage floor at different heights, as a steep sloping plane, as a roof or back wall, or as a separation between scenic height levels. Enchanting stagecraft But McBurney has more to offer. On each outer edge of the stage, he places designers who, via microphones and video cameras, create much of the show’s visual and aural expression in real time. For example, the huge snake that chases Prince Tamino in the opening scene is drawn with chalk. This is the first of many examples of how McBurney turns practical embarrassments into striking stage effects. The enchantment of the performance therefore lies to a large extent in the stage craft itself. LEVEL DIFFERENCE: McBurney takes parts of the show to new heights. Photo: Magnus Berg Dark men and sorceresses What story McBurney wants to tell, however, is more unclear. The scenography gives the performance a dark feel. It is not obvious that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, although the end apparently brings peace and reconciliation between all parties. The queen of the night sings partly sitting in a wheelchair. Her power is obviously not what it once was. Whether she is a tried and tested woman with a legitimate agenda or an evil sorceress with exhaustion syndrome is hard to say. WEAKENED: The Queen of the Night (Rainelle Krause) sings most of her vocal parts sitting in a wheelchair. Photo: Magnus Berg Sarastro and his male-dominated community do not appear as apostles of light either. The associations go in the direction of a kind of Illuminati-like organization that steers the world towards the apocalypse, with Sarastro as both a charismatic and authoritarian leader. The heart skips a beat The fact that Prince Tamino trusts these people blindly does not speak in his favour. He should have run for his life already when he saw what kind of brutal band of robbers Sarastro has on his payroll (Monostatos and the rest of the slaves). To get to the point: For natural reasons, McBurney wants to shake up the opera’s simple distinction between good and evil forces. Then, at the same time, the beating heart of the opera slips away: the touching love story between Tamino and Pamina, two admirable young people who grow internally through external trials. Both come across as excessively stupid and naive in this direction. NAIVE LOVE: Prince Tamino (Linard Vrielink) and Pamina (Mari Eriksmoen). Photo: Magnus Berg / BNO If I had bought a used car from any of these people, the choice would have fallen on the opera’s immortal anti-hero: the bird catcher Papageno. He looks like an honest guy as he trudges around with paint stains on his clothes and a curtain rod over his shoulder. Perhaps this is McBurney’s point. In an “enlightened” world that is really ruled by money and power, Papageno, the jovial guy who redecorates your kitchen, is really the only one you can trust. Star cast of singers On the soloist side, this performance is a delight from end to end. Linard Vrielink sings Tamino’s arias effortlessly and with youthful fervor. Soprano Mari Eriksmoen shows once again that she is one of the really good Paminas of our time. American Rainelle Krause has the necessary mix of power and acrobatics needed for the Queen of the Night’s arias to really take off. Dane Stephen Miling’s sonorous bass voice makes Sarastro a frighteningly current charismatic leader. Most impressive, however, is the Dutch Thomas Oliemans, who manages to create a Papageno for our time, even with a lot of original text (in German!). BRILLIANT: Baritone Thomas Oliemans impresses in the role of Papageno. Here together with Papagena (Renate Ekerhovd). Photo: Magnus Berg Oliemans is simply a brilliant singer-actor with impeccable comic timing. But it actually has to be that way for a production of “The Magic Flute” to hit the mark. Conductor Eivind Gullberg Jensen leads the choir and orchestra with a steady hand, although I experienced some of his tempos as excessively hectic, especially in the first act. A modern success McBurney’s production of “The Magic Flute” premiered at the English National Opera as early as 2013, and has subsequently been played in several rounds both in London and Aix-de-Provence. In the spring, it will be staged at The Met. It is therefore not surprising that opera director Eivind Gullberg Jensen wants to present the production in Grieghallen. For McBurney, that piece of art actually manages to give “The Magic Flute” a modern idiom without sacrificing too much of its simple charm and joys. At the same time, he shows that little is more enchanting than opera when everything clicks. news reviewer Photo: BNO Title: “The Magic Flute” Location: Grieghallen, Bergen Music: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Libretto: Emanuel Schikaneder Conductor: Eivind Gullberg Jensen Orchestra: Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra Choir: Edvard Grieg Choir, singers from the Bergen Philharmonic Choir, Collegium Musicum and the Grieg Academy Director: Simon McBurney Director in Bergen: Rachael Hewer Scenographer: Michael Levine Costume Designer: Nicky Gillibrand Lighting Designer: Jean Kalman Video Designer: Finn Ross Sound Designer: Gareth Fry Josie Daxter: Movement Instructor Håkon Matti Skrede: Choir Master Cast: Linard Vrielink (Tamino), Mari Eriksmoen ( Pamina), Stephen Milling (Sarastro), Rainelle Krause (Queen of the Night), Ann-Helen Moen (1st lady), Rosanne van Sandwijk (2nd lady), Astrid Nordstad (3rd lady), Thomas Oliemans (Papageno), Renate Ekerhovd (Papagena), Mark Omvlee (Monostatos), Håvard Stensvold (The Speaker), Ludvig Lindström (1st priest/2nd soldier), Eirik Grøtvedt (2nd priest/1st soldier), Olav Frøyen Sandvik (1st boy), Benjamin Win ter (2. boy), Markus Sollesnes (3rd boy). Date: 5–11 November 2022
With two grim premieres among the offerings, Monteverdi’s sharp “L’Incoronazione di Poppea” was the highlight of a week of opera.
What unfolded was a masterful reading which barely deviated at all from Rossini and his librettist Étienne de Jouy’s masterpiece. Yes, it was updated to include the current refugee crisis, and while the sympathy of the director certainly lay with the refugees, it was no more than Rossini had showed for the Israelites fleeing the Egyptians. Yet, there was no attempt to brow beat the audience, rather this was a descriptive depiction of the crisis, in which the Egyptian’s precipitate the crossing of the Red Sea, illustrating clearly how persecution can lead to a mass movement of people seeking refuge. It had nothing to say about the rights and wrongs of the reception the refugees received in the Promised Land. Moreover, the director Tobias Kratzer’s presentation was more than just an updating in order to provide relevance to the present day, for it also managed to provide the work with a pleasing dynamic momentum which carried the work forward. Rarely, did the work appear to stop for the express purpose of an aria or a set ensemble, rather Kratzer ensured that there was always something happening.
With two grim premieres among the offerings, Monteverdi’s sharp “L’Incoronazione di Poppea” was the highlight of a week of opera.
En catastrophe Aurélie Ligerot sauve le spectacle en chantant la partition en bordure de scène, côté cour. Sans avoir le brillant que l’on suppose à celle de sa consœur, sa prestation est néanmoins sans défaut et réserve de fort jolis moments en deuxième partie.
