Profile reviews
1Kristina Mkhitaryan, appearing in Zurich for the first time, is an exquisite Violetta. She turned Hermann’s portrayal into her own; she was desperate to host a party in Act I without cracking up, she was taken aback by Liparit Avetisyan’s Alfredo as he offered unwelcome and genuine love, and she was launched into brief and nescient bliss in Act II in her untenable household. Be it said that Mkhitaryan’s topmost coloratura flirted with harshness on this evening, and that her ‘Sempre libera’ high E flat was ever so briefly pinged before she eagerly descended back to safety. Yet even would-be blemishes served her portrayal – more vocal confidence would have undercut her Violetta’s uncertain rage and tantrums. (This Violetta hits on waiters at her banquet when confronted with her implicit demise.) Mkhitaryan is otherwise sumptuous: lithe Italian, mature control of dynamics, and a way of inhabiting each line and phrase, giving it all real meaning. She managed to deliver three distinct stages of life over three acts by means of subtle stylistic variation. Do I have to mention how hard that is?
Past Production Reviews
7Another double helping of a Verdi classic.
As El Padre used to say, there are two things to see at an opera. The first is the opera — the second is people watching the opera. Never is this more true than at the opening night of a fresh rendition of La Traviata; the Royal Opera House’s latest outing, lovingly directed by the usually excellent Richard Eyre, attracts an audience as mosaic and unknowable as Boris Gudunov. White tie mixes with tattered mesh jackets; the oldest of old money rubs against ruddy-faced scions of European commerce. Opera — the great leveller. La Traviata — the ultimate draw. All of which is to say, in a roundabout sort of way, that this, like Tosca, is an opera that does not need to be perfect to be adored — and that this truth is a vital feature of the experience. An elderly man at the bar, for example, complains to me before the show even begins that he has seen La Traviata “at least ten times this year”; yet, when the bell is rung, he bounces in as quickly as anybody. Verdi transcends — but will Richard Eyre?
While the highly anticipated revival of The Music Man idles awaiting the recovery from COVID of its stars Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster and other Broadway shows have closed either temporarily or permanently, the Metropolitan Opera defied Omicron to present its annual New Year’s Eve gala Friday night. If the crowd was sparser and less nattily dressed than in previous years, enthusiastically grateful applause greeted the superb cast and conductor after the premiere of the company’s new version of Verdi’s beloved classic Rigoletto. Before a celebratory shower of glittering confetti fell from the ceiling, the response was decidedly more tepid for the production team as yet once again director Bartlett Sher demonstrated little affinity for opera.
Kristina Mkhitaryan, appearing in Zurich for the first time, is an exquisite Violetta. She turned Hermann’s portrayal into her own; she was desperate to host a party in Act I without cracking up, she was taken aback by Liparit Avetisyan’s Alfredo as he offered unwelcome and genuine love, and she was launched into brief and nescient bliss in Act II in her untenable household. Be it said that Mkhitaryan’s topmost coloratura flirted with harshness on this evening, and that her ‘Sempre libera’ high E flat was ever so briefly pinged before she eagerly descended back to safety. Yet even would-be blemishes served her portrayal – more vocal confidence would have undercut her Violetta’s uncertain rage and tantrums. (This Violetta hits on waiters at her banquet when confronted with her implicit demise.) Mkhitaryan is otherwise sumptuous: lithe Italian, mature control of dynamics, and a way of inhabiting each line and phrase, giving it all real meaning. She managed to deliver three distinct stages of life over three acts by means of subtle stylistic variation. Do I have to mention how hard that is?
