Opera Orchestra of New York
Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia
Carnegie Hall, New York City
February 14, 2000
Now at the zenith of an international career, Renée Fleming brought a fearsome commitment to her single performance of the demanding title role in Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia. So intense was her performance, so willing was Fleming to take all the vocal risks, to sing the most complex, “death-defying” roulades and to interpolate extreme high notes that many of the listeners who loudly applauded her efforts also feared for her vocal welfare. In truth, this versatile soprano so effective in Mozart, Massenet, Richard Strauss and Andre Previn is, in terms of vocal weight and amplitude, not quite a Donizetti dramatic soprano. In order to fulfill the demands of the part and satisfy her own standard of excellence, Fleming chose to extend her voice to its outer limits and almost beyond. Although she never actually pushed her voice past the beauty threshold, she didn’t make this difficult music sound easy. Lacking the requisite power for Donizetti’s final scene, Fleming substituted some busier, faster passages that produced an effect less appropriately tragic. It was a daring, big-time performance that somehow managed to be startling rather than moving. (And isn’t it a fascinating commentary on how far the bel canto revival has come that we now expect to be emotionally involved in music that not so long ago was considered to be a mere showcase for virtuosity?) Usually the most expressive of singers, this time out Fleming wasn’t able to go into those little places in the music where the meaning lives. Instead, she relied on externals and in spite of the extramusical dramatics she heaped upon the role, Fleming didn’t project Lucrezia Borgia’s pain through her singing of the musical line. She worked hard, but did not convince that her intensity was true passion. In a concert performance, such overt “acting” made it seem that Fleming belonged to another show; she was on an entirely different plane than the other excellent artists.
And excellent they all were! As Orsini, her OONY debut, Stephanie Blythe unleashed a bold, vividly colored mezzo soprano in the Marilyn Horne tradition. The manly timbre of her spectacular lower register was astoundingly suitable for this trouser role and blended appropriately with the “other” four men who made up the quintet of ruffians. Her variations for the second act Brindisi took her huge voice up to dramatic soprano territory, thrilling the audience and making one believe there is virtually nothing she cannot do. The ruffians, Charles Robert Stevens, Christopher Mooney, Brian Nedvin and Michael Corvino, sang with faultless ensemble, adding bright touches of characterization to distinguish their parts.
The general impression of tenor Marcello Giordani (Gennaro) was one of complete satisfaction. Also making his OONY debut, Giordani’s voice is big and beautiful; he sang with caressing musicianship, shapely phrasing and appropriate passion, the voice growing even warmer and more burnished as the evening progressed. As if this weren’t enough, he is tall, dark and handsome into the bargain. Maestro Eve Queler can be commended for rounding up this one; opera houses worldwide should be fighting for his services!
Dean Peterson brought a large, woofy bass-baritone and a vigorous, if one-dimensional, sense of malice to his portrayal of Duke Alfonso. Some variation in dynamics would have increased the musical interest of his performance.
In the casting of the smaller roles, Maestro Queler cultivates the discoveries in her Young Artists Program, bringing them forward gradually as they develop into larger parts. Earlier this season in Adelia, debuting tenor Justin Vickers’ part was so small that it wasn’t possible to form an impression of his work. But in the important part of Rustighello, he manifested a sweet, flexible voice and a lively, highly specific projection of the text that could set an excellent example for singers on this and other stages. A definite asset to Lucrezia Borgia, Vickers is a talent to be watched. Another Queler discovery, Luiz-Ottavio Faria, as Astolfo, had little to sing. It was enough, however, to reveal a plangent voice of uncommonly sensuous beauty and to instill in this listener a fervent desire to hear him again soon in a major role.
Following her truly revelatory conducting of Donizetti’s Adelia with this more familiar opera, Maestro Queler once again demonstrated her virtually unparalled mastery of this composer, and of bel canto in general. Leading her excellent orchestra and the Ars Musica Chorale, Queler revealed all the colors, textures, and springing rhythms of this intriguing score. Freeman Günter
Metropolitan Opera
Offenbach: Les Contes d’Hoffmann
Lincoln Center
February 4, 2000
The Met’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann gave a rip-roaring good time, bringing out the work’s humor at every opportunity. Taking on all three leading roles, Ruth Ann Swenson was marvelous in every way. Her Olympia was beautifully sung every note distinct, on pitch, and clear as a bell. She looked just like a porcelain doll from the Victorian era: hair in golden ringlets, red cheeks, big eyes, frilly dress, on a doll-stand. The staging of Olympia’s aria, “Les oiseaux” was hilarious! Miss Swensons’s hand fluttered wildly during every trill. In one bit of stage business, the doll suspended her upper arm horizontally from the shoulder, allowing her lower arm to swing, which upended her inventor, Spalanzini, as he adjusted the doll’s mechanics. The arm continued to swing while Olympia moved about the stage (singing all the while), and chorus members and principals alike moved quickly away to avoid injury! In the second stanza, when Olympia sang first to one side of the house, and then the other, the chorus moved precisely in parallel to marvelous effect. Finally, during the applause, both to the stage and the house, Olympia alternated doll-like bows with two-handed blown kisses, allowing both Doll and Diva shamelessly to milk their applause. The audience played its role to perfection.
Though Swenson is known primarily for coloratura roles, her singing was as effective both as Antonia and Giulietta (performed in this production as Acts II and III, respectively). Her legato and tone quality were impeccable, her low notes were convincing and easy-sounding, and she was equally believable as the sweet but vain-about-her-singing Antonia and as the cold, mercenary, seductive Giulietta.
One could scarcely recognize Bryn Terfel under all the devilish make-up, and he put a satanic edge into his voice. It was impressively successful singing, but surprising to hear a sound so different from his usual lush tone. As Dr. Miracle in the Antonia act, the stage direction gave this evil fellow a sense of humor. He would appear on stage to work devilish magic on Antonia, and then would slink back into the shadows, only to reappear from a different location for more perfidy, each appearance getting a bigger laugh from the audience.
Neil Shicoff as Hoffman was perfect in this angst-filled role. His intense-yet-sincere manner makes one want to pat him on the shoulder and say, as a parent to a child, “It will be all right”. He sounded wonderful throughout his range; the top notes were thrilling, yet were produced easily and connected with the rest of his voice. He moved with grace, jumping on and off the table in the Tavern with ease. His waltzing with Olympia was wonderful to watch, and his swordfight with Schlemil in the Giulietta act was convincing.
One felt at this performance that no one could perform the Muse/Niklausse better than Suzanne Mentzer. Her tone was luxurious, yet her high notes floated out easily. She was sexy as the Muse, convincing in trousers, and had excellent stage chemistry with Mr. Shicoff. Her voice was the glue for every vocal ensemble she was in.
Pierre Lefebvre was hilarious in the servant roles. He made it hard to hold the opera glasses while laughing at his attempts at “singing” and dancing during his second-act aria. Hao Jiang Tian sang with a beautiful rich tone as Crespel, Antonia’s father. His was a successfully sympathetic portrayal of a character usually seen as a killjoy. Bernard Fitch was great fun as Spalanzani tinkering with his inventions in the Olympia act, and Christopher Shaldenbrand sounded wonderful and fenced well (if unsuccessfully!) as Schlemil in the Giulietta act. Wendy White, singing from the mother’s portrait, made it easy to believe that Antonia’s mother had been an opera star.
Although the production by Lesley Koenig (a 1992 revision of Otto Schenk’s 1982 production, with sets by Gunther Schneider-Siemssen and costumes by Gaby Frey) is not new, stage director David Kneuss imbued it with the enthusiasm and energy of a new production. The men’s chorus in the prologue and epilogue was energetic and had great tone. However, the choral ensemble was sloppy at times, especially early in the opera. Possibly this was caused by sightline problems resulting from James Levine’s having to conduct the entire opera seated due to recent back problems. The Met orchestra played with its usual virtuosity and beautiful tone. Margaret Harrison
Dicapo Opera Theatre
Samuel Barber’s Vanessa
New York City
February 18, 2000
Those who believe a totally satisfying operatic experience can only be had in one of the “big houses” have not visited Dicapo Opera Theatre recently. Their production of Barber’s Vanessa was just that: totally satisfying. Indeed, the “big houses” frequently fall short of Dicapo in terms of the level of commitment, intensity, and plausible dramatically convincing stage direction found in this performance. Michael Capasso’s exemplary stage direction cleanly set up the complex and unusual relationships in this gothic tale with simplicity and telling gestures that made everything clear from the outset.
In Cecilia Angell, Dicapo found a Vanessa capable of handling the role’s soaring vocal demands and making her neurotic, compulsive personality both convincing and sympathetic. Her large, intensely colored soprano beautifully conveyed Vanessa’s seething, yet often repressed passions, lacking only that ultimate finish of technical refinement at the very top of her range.
Maria Zifchak brought warmth and vulnerabilty along with world-class technical polish and a lovely mezzo soprano to her characterization of Erica, the niece who is poised to assume Vanessa’s destiny at the final curtain. The relationship between the two women and all of the relationships in the cast, for that matter were completely realized with implied subtexts and past histories that made for an uncommonly rich dramatic experience.
Obviously cast for her good looks, experience and the dramatic authority she effortlessly projects, Elaine Malbin, a high soprano, was singing way below her Fach in the mezzo soprano role of the imperious old Baroness. In this intimate house, she was able to do so effectively although she had to resort to speaking certain of the important, low-lying lines. In the quintet finale, however, her lines often sank below the desired level of audibility, unbalancing this important ensemble.
It is not easy for a very young artist to portray callowness, but Brad Cresswell impressively conveyed this, and all of the other psychological components of Anatol, the young opportunist who doesn’t much care which one of the women he marries in order to become the master of the estate. Cresswell has a large and very beautiful tenor voice deployed with sensitive musicianship and a highly developed sense of drama. Many of his “choices” of phrasing and dynamics, however, were made out of technical necessity, making some of his nuances involuntary rather than deliberate. I would urge this singer, still very young, to concentrate his efforts on developing the technical polish he needs to become a truly finished artist. To a large extent, he could get by on his magnificent instrument, interpretive gifts and good looks, but it would be a shame not to attain the control of his soft singing at the top, messa di voce and register blending that would make him a really distinguished artist valuable to companies around the world.
Bass-baritone Anthony Breton offered a completely successful characterization of the Old Doctor. His comic nuances including a superb, touching, and not exaggerated drunk scene were on target and a character who is too often overly sentimental or a fatuous downer became fully human and sympathetic. It was very fine work. Joseph Baunoch, likewise, made the Major-domo, a complete and three-dimensional person.
Although there was some roughness in the orchestra’s playing of this difficult music, Timothy Lindberg conducted the score with the impressive shape and dramatic propulsion of a man born for theatre music. Freeman Günter
