The Washington Opera
Handel’s Giulio Cesare
Washington, DC, March 4, 2000
The Washington Opera’s highly effective performance of Giulio Cesare convinced this listener that the work should be re-named Cleopatra. Hei-Kyung Hong, who sang that role, was the star of the show. She was every inch the Queen of Egypt, the most beautiful woman in the world, a woman who bewitches Caesar at first sight with her voice, her looks, and her bearing. Though she had to sing difficult aria after difficult aria, with only a little recitative in between, every note was produced with ease and beauty. No matter how long the aria, one was happy to hear the da capo, so the singing would continue and the virtuosic fireworks could begin. Of particular note were Hong’s renditions of the two well-known arias, “V’adoro de pupille” and “Piangero.” In the former, she sang a long, unaccompanied cadenza during the da capo. When she paused for a breath, and waited a moment longer than physically necessary to continue singing, there was not a sound to be heard in the sold-out Kennedy Center Opera House. It was as if each person in the audience were trying not to breathe, so as not to miss any nuance of her performance. The end of “Piangero” (which Cleopatra sings after being told of Caesar’s apparent death) brought more than one listener to tears. Despite the nearly four-hour production (including intermissions), Hong’s acting was as good as her singing: she was “on” every moment.
Vivica Genaux’s singing of Caesar was very accomplished. Each note of every difficult coloratura run was clear and distinct; one could take dictation from her singing. However, she was miscast in this role, both vocally and otherwise. The part sits very low in the least attractive part of her voice where the chest tone had a metallic edge. Physically, Genaux is small; even in high-heeled boots, she stood more than an inch shorter than the not-tall Hei-Kyung Hong. This alone would not be a problem except that one never forgot for a moment that she was a woman, because of her stunning beauty, her feminine-looking short hairstyle, and the fact that she never moved on stage as a man would move. This was in sharp contrast to the intense and macho portrayals by “sopranist” Flavio Oliver (Ptolemy), baritone Jonathan Hays (Achillus), and soprano Marguerite Krull (Sextus). When Genaux was allowed to sing in a higher register occasionally during cadenzas at the end of a da capo, one could finally hear the beauty in her voice, and understand her successful international opera career in roles like Rosina. However, the audience enjoyed her performance, and she received warm applause after her arias and at the curtain call.
“Sopranist” Flavio Oliver was a hoot as super-bad-guy Ptolemy, Cleopatra’s brother who’s trying to take over her kingdom. Physically, in manner, and in costume, he reminded one of Yul Bryner as the King of Siam. His head was shaved shiny-bald. He stood and moved with a king-like, obstreperous stance, which made him the tallest man on the stage, even though everyone towered over him in inches. His singing was accomplished – every note clear, the tone easy and even, especially when strong emotion was projected. He was physically fearless, twirling his sword samurai-like in the fight scenes, jumping down from his chaise longue (carried high in the air by his four “slaves”) as if he were a gymnast dismounting from the high bar.
As Pompey’s widow Cornelia, Catherine Keen’s singing was highly effective, and made the vocal miscasting of Genaux more evident in comparison. Her part was also low in her voice, but in Keen’s case, the lower her voice went, the more beautiful her sound became. The gorgeous and heart-rending duet between Cornelia and Sextus (Pompey’s son) at the end of the first act, as they mourn the slain Pompey was fully the tearjerker that Handel intended. The vocal beauty of both singers, the blend of their voices, the intensity of their performances, the perfect orchestral playing, and the sureness of the stage direction perfectly realized Handel’s intention.
As Sextus, Marguerite Krull gave an outstanding performance. Her light soprano was just right for the role of the teenage son of the slain Pompey. And, unlike Caesar, she made a believable young man every moment she was on stage. Jonathan Hays’ sang and performed very well as Achillus, the assassin of Pompey and double-dealing assistant to Ptolemy. His dramatic intensity was exciting to behold, and made one really regret that Ptolemy murdered him before he could sing another aria.
The orchestra was excellent, as was Will Crutchfield’s conducting and continuo-playing. The instruments played with both tonal body and a lightly played baroque style. The violins sounded as one in Handel’s difficult passage work. The sound always supported the singers, but never overwhelmed them. Crutchfield was with the singers every step of the way, and the tempos were always just right – neither too slow nor too fast. This was a long evening, and any draggy tempo would have been deadly.
The chorus had little to sing, but both their sound and their stage presence were excellent.
John Pascoe’s stage direction was ideal, perfectly meeting the challenge of designing stage movement for a baroque opera in a 21st century production. Certainly in Handel’s day nobody expected naturalism on stage. We do today, however, so the director must devise stage movement for long instrumental ritornellos, da capos, and repetition of text. Movement was always motivated and purposeful, and it was done with the music so that one was never distracted from the primacy of the singing.
The performers and the entire artistic team of this Giulio Cesare have earned the undying gratitude of every opera lover for proving that Handel is one of the best opera composers of all time, right up there with Mozart, Wagner, Verdi and Puccini. Margaret Harrison
The Metropolitan Opera
PBS Broadcast
Lehar’s The Merry Widow
New York City, March 4, 2000
On the way home to catch the broadcast of The Merry Widow, I passed two opera goers who were loudly debating whether Lehar’s poignant, sensuous work belongs at “the Big House” at all. The antagonist was citing all of the early Verdi operas that he thought the Met should be doing that day instead. Believing The Merry Widow, by virtue of its craft, its inspired music and the human truth it contains, to be one of the sublime works of the musical theatre, I felt that its Met debut was long overdue. Seeking to avoid trouble, I didn’t enter the conversation and declare that if forced to, I personally would trade them any of the works they mentioned for The Merry Widow. Quite simply, it is one of my all-time favorite shows.
Soon after conductor Andrew Davis gave the downbeat, however, I began to wonder if the gentlemen were not correct after all. My heart sank as the conductor began to shape a boisterous, driven performance that responded far more to the energy of nearby Broadway than faraway Vienna, the work’s spiritual home (even though it is, of course, set in Paris). The diplomats, led by a very effective Anthony Laciura as Njegus were pressed on through their music at quite a clip. And because of the driving tempi, Emily Pulley and Paul Groves, as the secondary couple Valencienne and Camille, did not get a chance to make much of their first two duets. Hanna’s delicious entrance aria, likewise, was pressed forward too intensely to allow the fragrant melody to hover over the crowd as it should. (It was not, however, pressed so fast that I failed to notice that Frederica von Stade was in magnificent voice.) Placido Domingo’s first aria, Danilo’s jaunty paean to Maxim’s, wasn’t allowed to linger as it should, either. I didn’t know whether to blame the conductor or the size of the house, but the charm of this piece was being trounced.
Midway through the second act, however, the magic suddenly kicked in. Hanna and Danilo were dancing together, humming the celebrated waltz song because if they were to sing the words, he would have to declare “I love you,” and the plot would end then and there. Domingo’s vocal line was dominant with von Stade snuggling her line up against the gentle yet manly curves of his singing. One heard his voice first with hers blending beautifully and forming a half-heard, ghost effect. It was rapturous, yet suppressed, just as Lehar intended, and I have never heard this moment make a greater, more romantic impact in any performance or recording. Once the magic arrived, it remained for the rest of the performance.
When Maestro Davis gave tenor Paul Groves a generous, expansive tempo for the Pavillion song, he sang it for all it was worth. Groves phrased and sang with unsurpassed sweetness, luxuriating in his free, supple vocal production and caressing the ear with a melting mixed voice and haunting, floated pianissimi. It was sheer heaven, soon to be matched by the singing of von Stade and Domingo in the final act.
All afternoon Domingo had been singing with such freedom, freshness and beauty and such wonderful diction in English that the purist in me didn’t mind at all when an aria from Lehar’s Paganini was interpolated into the beginning of the third act in order to give this great singer something more to sing than the role of Danilo actually contains. Although von Stade got no extra music, she didn’t need any. In Hanna Glawari, she has found a congenial, glove-fitting role even though it is technically not in her Fach. Fach switching, though, is nothing new to this mezzo soprano who is famous for her beautiful work in soprano roles like Debussy’s Melissande and Magnolia in Showboat. Defying the laws of time and gravity, her voice has become sweeter and lighter at the top while actually gaining richness and color in the middle and bottom. The overall smoothness of texture and evenness of scale was astonishing. She seemed to me like a singer reborn. Franz Lehar’s wealthy widow is a constantly blooming evergreen, fresher and lovelier each time out; this seems also to be true of Frederica von Stade. Freeman Günter
Elinor Remick Warren Society
Song Recital
Coolidge Auditorium
The Library of Congress,Washington, DC
March 18, 2000
It was an interesting though uninspiring evening when the Elinor Remick Warren Society and the Library of Congress co-sponsored a recital of music by this American composer (1900-1991). This recital was part of the centenary celebration of her birth that included the presentation of the “Warren Collection” to the Library of Congress. Performing in this recital of 13 songs and three piano works were soprano Christine Goerke, mezzo Margaret Lattimore, tenor Stanford Olsen, baritone Thomas Hampson, and pianist Craig Rutenberg.
In the program notes by Ms. Warren’s biographer Virginia Bortin, the composer is referred to as a neoromantic, and reports that she started composing songs at age five. Listening to the songs, it was difficult to believe that they were composed in the 20th century (from 1927 through 1990), as they would not have sounded out of place in the late 19th century. Otherwise, the music did not make much impression on the listener, other than being pleasant. Included were settings of poems by Robert Frost, Carl Sandburg, Walt Whitman, Robert Nathan, D.H. Lawrence, and Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
Of the four fine singers who performed, only Stanford Olsen made a convincing case for the music (his three songs were “My Parting Gift” (Grace Tibbett), “Piano” (D.H. Lawrence), and “Silent Noon” (Dante Gabriel Rosetti.) He did this with his stunning tone, clear-as-crystal diction, wide variety of vocal colors, and winning personality.
Christine Goerke sang with glorious tone, but never less than forte, so after a few minutes, one longed for more variety in tone color for this uninspiring music. In the small, very live-sounding Coolidge Auditorium, her biggest, most glorious tone would have been more welcome if it had been used more judiciously. The hall made the diction difficult to understand, though one could hear and see the effort expended making clear consonants and vowels. It seemed that the poetry wasn’t communicated – although this could be as much the composer’s responsibility as the singer’s. (Without having been provided with texts for these unfamiliar poems, it’s difficult to judge.) Ms. Goerke commendably maintained a restrained recital demeanor, and looked wonderful in her long, slender, sleeveless print dress.
Margaret Lattimore sounded lovely, and looked equally good. Her dress was one of the best formal recital dresses to be seen: dark grey, off the shoulders, with plunging V neck, long sleeves, fitted to the body in the bodice, and flaring into a wide skirt just below the waist. She presented her songs in an animated opera singer manner, with hard work on diction, but again, the poetry was not communicated.
Thomas Hampson made his usual glorious tone, and was the only one who used a score. However, it was an object lesson for any aspiring singer: The music was held low, and only glanced at occasionally, so it did not get between the singer and the audience. The diction was clear, and the emotional energy was obvious, but again, the poetry was not communicated effectively.
Craig Rutenberg provided committed and able accompaniment, and did a fine job with difficult-sounding music in three solo piano works, the most interesting of which was a version of Stephen Foster’s “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair”. As Rutenberg explained to the audience, the melody was in the tenor register. The explanation was helpful in following the music, and Rutenberg did a fine job of bringing the familiar melody out of the surrounding thick musical texture. Margaret Harrison
Lyric Opera of Chicago
Wagner: Tristan und Isolde
Chicago, IL
March 1, 2000
Opera lovers passionate and casual are told “There’s Tristan and there’s everything else.” Wagner’s epic paean to romantic love has been under-performed until very recently when soprano Jane Eaglen teamed with Ben Heppner for a run of performances with the Seattle Opera in the summer of 1998. The pair has since appeared in this work at the Met, the first new production of Tristan in New York since the Bing era ended thirty years ago.
Francesca Zambello’s production for Seattle traveled this past winter to the Lyric Opera of Chicago, where Heppner alternated the role of Tristan with Jon Frederic West. Heard at the March 1 matinee, Mr. West deserves better than being known as “the Tristan who isn’t Ben Heppner.” The voice lacks Heppner’s glamor and the flowing lines through the love duet are more willed than natural to this voice. Nevertheless, Mr. West sang a passionate and heartrending third act, the great voice killer in this Fach, matching Tristan’s delirium with his longing for Isolde and joy at an imagined reunion.
Miss Eaglen’s voice on record always struck me as a cold, unwieldy instrument. Hearing her live corrects this impression. It’s a large voice, rich and not terribly pliant. The lightning high Cs in Act II are not natural to her, but the richness of this voice made for an especially erotic liebesnacht. Eaglen’s powerful voice offered a magnificent liebestod after four hours of singing. Francesca Zambello’s staging made few demands on either principal to move, with the liebesnacht sung seated side by side on a wooden bench. The steel cube encasing the lovers throughout the production made its point of isolating the protagonists into their own world by mid Act I. One could also consider this isolation a plus focusing the audience upon the music throughout, a blessing with such a well played performance.
Michelle De Young was a beautiful Brangaene with plenty of soprano overtones in her voice suggesting a younger than usual companion for Isolde. Kurwenal was sung by Alan Held with a great lieder singer’s love for the text and an attractive voice to match. Rene Pape poured the liquid bronze of his voice on to King Marke and his monologue, often a coffee break for the audience, kept the sold out house stilled and attentive. (The stilled coughing returned for the first ten minutes of Act III with a vengance). This was a performance richly sung by all the principals none of whom removed themselves emotionally from the words.
And what a superb orchestra! Semyon Bychkov gave the smallest notes room to breathe, encouraging the middle voiced writing in the orchestra while offering plenty of forward momentum to this singers. The five hours of music flew by, leaving a grateful audience ready to hear it again.
One caveat only about the physical production: Miss Eaglen wore her purple robes throughout–attractive enough, but even with the timelessness of this most erotic of stories, certainly the Princess of Ireland owns more than one dress. Christopher Purdy
The Washington Opera
Verdi: Otello
Kennedy Center Opera House, Washington, DC,
March 13, 2000
Otello made for an enjoyable, though long, evening. The singing was mostly very good in this performance, and sometimes even thrilling.
Jose Cura’s singing was exciting. His high notes were at the top of the tenor thrilling scale, giving the listener honest-to-goodness goosebumps several times during the evening. He is one of the few tenors singing this repertoire today who makes one understand the fuss about tenors. His intensity and commitment on stage were exciting to behold. That said, as an actor, he has not yet found a way to convince the viewer of the dramatic plausability of this difficult and complex character’s actions. However, Cura wasn’t helped by his makeup. His skin color wasn’t a lot darker than the Iago (Justino Diaz); it looked as if the singer were a fair-skinned man who had just returned from a beach vacation. With swoon- inducing glimpses of bare chest in the first act love scene, and the muscular look of his legs in thigh-high boots, the man is matinee idol through and through. It was very difficult to believe that this incredible physical specimen would even for a fleeting moment believe that a woman would do other than fall madly and hopelessly in love with him forever!
Veronica Villaroel sang a beautiful Desdemona. Her voice has a lovely dark quality which sounds easily and naturally produced. Her loveliest singing was at pianissimo at the top of her range. Her acting was completely convincing, especially in the last act, starting with the Salce /Ave Maria and continuing through her murder at her husband’s hand. She and Cura shared an exciting chemistry in their first act love scenes. During the curtain calls at the end of the opera, Cura gave her a HUGE, long bear hug (it was their last performance of the run). Villaroel deserved the hug, the bravas from the audience, and the lovely yellow bouquet a fan threw onto the stage at her solo curtain call, and she looked very pleased.
Both vocally and dramatically, Justino Diaz’s Iago was the least successful portrayal of the evening, although the audience was very appreciative at the curtain call. It had been reported that he was ill on opening night though he sang, and there was no announcement. In any event, his indisposition could be heard throughout the evening, perhaps preventing him from unleashing his full voice as much as he wanted. There was also a distinct wobble to be heard on sustained high notes.
The comprimario roles were all very well sung. Corey Evan Rotz’s Cassio had a wonderful light, bright tenor sound to complement Cura’s more robust tone. One longed for the opportunity to hear Elizabeth Bishop sing more than a line or two, which Emilia finally gets to do in the last act, after Desdemona’s murder. After having heard her rich, exciting sound and her impassioned acting, one is impatient to hear her sing Eboli in the Washington Opera’s Don Carlo next season!
Almost as thrilling as a great tenor’s top notes is the sound of 70 opera-trained singers singing full out – especially when it’s Verdi’s incredible chorus music they’re singing! These singers, prepared by chorus master Steven Gathman, had beautiful tone, which never sounded pushed or wobbly, even when singing fortissimo. Stage director Sonia Frisell used these large forces well, with motion seeming natural at all time, but never upstaging the principals.
The orchestra, led by company artistic director Placido Domingo, continued the marvelous work they’ve done all season. Memorable were a stunning cello quartet in the third act, and warm, yet thrilling sounds from the brass throughout. -Margaret Harrison
The Washington Opera
Puccini’s Tosca
Kennedy Center Opera House, Washington DC, March 14, 2000
The Washington Opera presented a more than competent Tosca. Susan Patterson sang the role of Tosca (Galina Gorchakova had sung the first 6 peformances; and Patterson sang the last four.) One does not always hear such beautiful singing in this role. It’s so dramatic, that one expects to hear drama rather than beauty. But Patterson had both. The louder and higher she sang, the more beautiful her sound became. There was not a wobble to be heard, even when the emotion was at its most intense. She was also dramatically effective. As one watched through the opera glasses, she was always “on “ and involved, whether she was singing or not. Her face never showed anything but Tosca’s emotions. Patterson even made a convincing business of this staging’s unusual pre-Scarpia’s-murder suicide attempt.
Marcus Haddock has performed previously at The Washington opera in La Rondine (a production that was seen on PBS this past January). Though he performed creditably in that role, at this performance one felt that Cavaradossi is his role. He sang excitingly from start to finish. His top was thrilling and his acting completely committed. Though this is not a difficult or subtle acting challenge, one still needs the performer’s commitment and intensity to make an audience believe the melodrama on stage and Haddock made the audience believe.
Sergei Lieferkus’s was Scarpia. Though his is not a beautiful voice, it was powerful and accomplished singing, and Lieferkus’s portrayal made one not care about aural beauty. His very posture – back straight, head high, always a sneer on his face made one fear and hate the man. And yet he made the character attractive in his hateful way, which made him even more fun to watch as he tries to force Tosca to succumb.
John Marcus Bindel’s Sciarrone was great fun to watch. The staging presented the character as a feeble-minded, murderous hunchback, limping about with a taut cord on his hands, ready to garrotte anyone who looked at Scarpia cross-eyed. His acting was committed and convincing, and the singing rich and lovely when he had the opportunity. Jonathan Grey Price’s off-stage Shepherd had a lovely, sweet tone. Stephen Morscheck’s Angelotti made a beautiful sound, as did Michael Bicoy’s Spoletta. The Washington Opera seems to be using a regular roster of fine singers in the comprimario roles this season, and they have chosen well. One hopes that many of them will be given lead roles in the future.
Under Maestro Fricke, the excellent orchestra always conveyed the drama that Puccini wrote into the orchestra parts. The musicians stayed for quite a while at the end of the opera, to applaud both the singers and the Maestro when they took their bows.
Director Frank Corsaro and husband/wife scenery/costume team Alexander Beliaev and Lena Rivkina made some odd choices. For example, instead of using his brushes on the first-act painting, Cavaradossi is apparently using brushes on a sculpture! Though the sculpture of the beautiful woman makes a lovely visual effect on stage, it makes no sense in terms of the libretto! Though it takes much more than this sort of quirkiness to ruin Puccini’s achievement (this opera may be director-proof), it shows a lack of respect. The same goes with the Tosca suicide attempt described above, and Scarpia’s horror-movie-type revival at the end of Act II, just before expiring for good (which is done in the time usually spent in Tosca’s putting candles about his dead body). If an artistic team is so bored with a work that these effects must be used, perhaps younger artists should be given the opportunity to stage the work! Otherwise, the designs were fine looking and traditional.
