Der Rosenkavalier
Metropolitan Opera, New York
January 20, 2000
The season premiere of Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavelier at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City on Thursday, January 20, 2000 provided me with one of my best opera experiences ever. After the chandeliers rose to the ceiling, a spotlight shone on the gold curtain and someone who looked like the Met’s General Manager Joe Volpe walked to center stage. The audience breathed a huge sigh of relief in this flu season to hear that the cast changes involved only the roles of Milliner and Animal Vendor!
This performance was a wonderful, total realization of Richard Strauss’s and Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s towering opera.
I’ll start with one of the favorite characters in all opera – the Marschallin, sung by Renée Fleming. Her voice was incredibly beautiful, she had breath without end, and there was emotional truth in her portrayal. At the end of Act I, the Marschallin realizes she hasn’t kissed Octavian good-bye, asks to have him called back, and learns he’s ridden away. She sits alone in her huge, magnificent room, and the Act ends with the warmest, most beautiful, solo violin note. I burst into tears and couldn’t speak afterwards for at least 10 minutes. Moments like these are what makes opera the highest art form.
That was Renée Fleming’s moment, but the audience’s reaction wasn’t only to this great soprano’s achievement, it was to the culmination of every aspect of the opera’s performance and production: The sets and costumes were stunning, among the most beautiful in all of opera. The Met orchestra, led by James Levine, played with unfailing virtuosity and beauty. The pages of virtuosic playing by the entire violin section during the Prelude to Act III alone were worth the price of the ticket. The sensitive stage direction was aptly attuned to the music at all times and the entire company contributed marvelous performances across the board.
Susan Graham’s Octavian was a delight. In addition to her gorgeous tone, phrasing and diction, the chemistry she shared with Fleming while they lay together during the opening moments of the opera worked perfectly. She was completely believable as a 17-year-old male aristocrat with women swooning at his feet.
Franz Hawlata portrayed Baron Ochs as a relatively young, vigorous poorer relation to the Marschallin, a man not physically unattractive. This was not a caricature it was a real person. While his voice isn’t as deep and rich as some others who’ve sung this role, this was very good singing; every word of the text was clearly projected.
Enjoyable was the Sophie of Heidi Grant Murphy, whose silvery tone and quick vibrato were perfect for the role. She was completely believable as this slightly spoiled, affluent teen-age girl just out of convent school. Murphy effectively portrayed the changes in Sophie’s character from a star-struck school-girl thrilled by the idea of marriage to a baron; to disgust with Och’s boorish behavior toward her; to her infatuation with the young Octavian; to feelings of betrayal toward her father for forcing her marriage for his social advancement; and finally to the beginning of an adult understanding of love learned from the Marschallin’s example.
Wendy White’s Annina was terrific. Her comedy delivery made the audience laugh out loud. Her animated facial expressions were worth watching through opera glasses, and her voice sounded wonderful, as well.
The singing and characterization of Hans-Joachim Ketelsen’s Faninal and Anthony Laciura’s Valzachhi were highly enjoyable. Stuart Neill made a fine, Italianate sound as the Italian Singer. And the beauty, richness and size of Stephen West’s bass-sounding tone (he’s listed on the Met roster as a bass-baritone) in the small role of police chief (called “police commissary” in the program) was indeed luxury casting!
Young Remy Rovelli was adorable as the Marschallin’s servant Mohammed. He got a nice hand from the audience and warm glances from his fellow cast-members when he came out with the principals for the first curtain call. Special mention must go to the adorable black and white Cavalier King Charles spaniel who made two appearances during the first act. The director wisely didn’t let the dog stay on stage very long, as it was a scene stealer par excellence.
-Margaret Harrison
Madama Butterfly
Metropolitan Opera, New York
January 18, 2000
The Metropolitan Opera’s Giancarlo del Monaco- designed production of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, originally performed in 1996, was a striking yet traditional rendering of the venerable Puccini tragedy. One can sense an imaginary connective thread from the repeat of the current production in repertory at the Met to the original production of the work, performed nearly a hundred years ago, with countless performances in between. Regardless of production values, casting, or myriad other factors, the opera consistently proves to be immensely satisfying and continually surprising on many levels, both as a piece of music and as theatre. However, this Butterfly was noteworthy primarily because of the Metropolitan debutante Sylvie Valayre, a French soprano, who conquered the phenomenally demanding title role with apparent ease. A true lirico-spinto soprano, hers was perhaps not the most fragile Butterfly in recent memory, but a valid and important portrayal nonetheless, achieved through her unusually vibrant timbre and dignified physicality. Comparisons to Callas, especially with her prominent dark middle voice, steely higher register, and dramatic intensity will surely be a frequent occurrence in Ms. Valayre’s career. Cio-Cio-San’s Act II scena sung to Sharpless was an encapsulated illustration of Valayre’s wide-ranging technical prowess, from shimmering pianos to the anguished cries of, “Morto! Morto! Mai piu danzar!” Ms. Valayre also makes her San Francisco Opera debut later this year in the same role. One can only imagine how much more shaded her vocal and dramatic characterization will become with further experience.
Russian tenor Vladimir Galouzine was a handsome and believably callous Pinkerton. Galouzine possesses an enormous and beautiful voice, although not traditionally Italianate. His top notes have a driven quality, which at times was truly exciting. Other times, however, his entire range sounded unattractively edgy and pushed. This tendency, along with some missed musical cues and coordination problems with the orchestra, particularly in the most seductive music in his Act I duet with Butterfly, left the impression of a general bluster over his performance, due to the lack of a consistent vocal characterization. Jane Bunnell was an ideal Suzuki, sympathetic and sincere. One of the musical highlights of the evening was her lush mezzo-soprano, providing an effortless fulcrum to Sharpless and Pinkerton in the Act III trio, and her desperation in the final moments before Cio-Cio-San carries out her terrible destiny was palpably evident. As Sharpless, William Shimell’s lovely, yet essentially light lyric-baritone seemed somewhat vocally mismatched with the size and timbre of the other principal’s voices. At times, his voice was totally obscured except when singing alone. Although he has an ideal temperament for the role, he is perhaps a bit young to portray Sharpless, appearing more youthful at times than this cast’s stentorian Pinkerton. However, Mr. Shimell is slated to portray the role with different casts, perhaps balancing the size of his instrument more to his advantage.
In the secondary roles, Bernard Fitch as Goro offered an unusually solidly sung version of the mercenary marriage broker, although his malevolence was not well-defined as to provide the necessary dramatic thrust that builds sympathy for the injustice of Butterfly’s inevitable demise. This Goro was more of a mild nuisance, rather than a threatening nemesis. Maria Zifchak, a mezzo soprano who is a member of the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program, also made her Met debut in the role of Kate Pinkerton. Her bright timbre provided the perfect vocal juxtaposition to Butterfly and Suzuki; thereby illustrating by aural means the character and cultural differences between them.
Richard Hobson as Prince Yamadori offered a gorgeous, full-voiced portrayal of Cio-Cio-San’s jilted suitor, appropriately ardent and lovesick; a standout performance amongst the comprimari. The orchestra was led capably, and at times magically, by Marcello Viotti, particularly evident in the orchestral interlude between Acts II and III, denoting Butterfly’s futile all-night vigil preparing for Pinkerton’s return. However, there were times in key dramatic moments when the orchestra overwhelmed the singers, and the effortless integration of music and drama disappeared, albeit momentarily.
The staging, mostly copied from the 1996 production, might have aided this problem; especially in Butterfly’s entrance, begun from too far off-stage, and parts of the Act I love duet, in which Butterfly is placed behind a nearly soundproof screen for what seemed an interminable length of time.
The sets and costumes, designed by Michael Scott, were in the conventional style, yet shimmering and opulent in detail. One missed some of the strong staging from 1996 version that provided a reminder of the ugliness behind the visual beauty of this particular production. These lost moments included Pinkerton lustfully tearing off Butterfly’s pristine white wedding gown to signify the insincere intent behind his romantic appeal in the Act I duet, and Butterfly’s shocking death made even more dramatic by her sprawling forward through a flimsy screen. In this version, both incidents were somewhat anti-climatic and without the requisite intensity, due to the lackluster staging. These were forgivable oversights, however, considering the satisfaction provided by the vocal and dramatic talents of Ms. Valayre.
-Elisabeth Lang
