BBC: Royal Opera McVicar Aida - serious casting, podium upgrade from last season provides fine musico-dramatic focus. Fabio Luisi.

It turned out well for David McVicar’s production, new last season, of Verdi’s Aida to have received a second chance at Royal Opera, given how strapped it got with musically disastrous results last season. BBC annotation then more emphasized a kind of generalized smorgasbord of costuming styles, generations from ancient past to modern, something to please everybody, being thrust upon Convent Garden stage. This year their sound bite leaned much more on the garish, even graphic violence to depict of an at best vaguely located totalitarian war-mongering state – equally de-Egyptologized – no elephants, no pyramids – as how things appeared last year. Figures to represent shriveling up, rotting away corpses off the field of battle hung off meat hooks above Amneris’s richly marble enhanced boudoir.

More assured, confident to conduct this performance was Fabio Luisi. Most likely helpful too was the cancellation of Micaela Carosi - given how inadequate last year she proved for the title role – thereby Ukranian soprano Liudmyla Monastyrska made her Convent Garden debut. Dramatically, she provided cogent, well considered understanding of much at stake. Vulnerability of Aida’s plight, naivete with Amneris, toughness under stress, subtly and directly manipulative way of compromising Radames all evidenced themselves.

Good line, legato, coloration of the above adequately carried forth, albeit compromised by occasional cloudy tone, soggy diction, bluster toward pushing up the sound, artificially darkening it thereby; thickness around the break made this at times a real issue. Of concern also was tentative stab to get more lyrical acuti to float, sound less obviously detached, and thereby to keep intonation stable. For heroic utterances, such as closing Act Two, she clearly made herself heard, even while flat, and through Nile duet with Amonasro as well. Flexibility to lighten voice during ‘O patria mia’ and through much of ‘Fuggiam inospiti’’ later along the Nile was lovely. Grasp of how to float her sound waited several lines or so however to establish itself during tomb scene with Radames.
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Roberto Alagna, largely assisted by deft, sensitive accompaniment from Fabio Luisi, revealed a more probing look at Radames through tendency to scale voice back and more subtly negotiated demands it makes than evident at La Scala several years ago – subject of the Roberto Alagna Milan Walkout, it turned out once. His sound was drier at Convent Garden than in Milan, but with considerably less of a constantly pushed up, projected quality than under a concise, more forthright Riccardo Chailly.

Some strain through ‘Celeste Aida’ was again apparent, its tessitura precariously centered around the break - as has occurred many times. Alagna still provided the smarts to define character – mix of sense of wonder and naivete innate to a good Radames – if all slightly weak at filling out heroic dimensions also characterizing the Egyptian captain. ‘Nel fiero anelito’ upon greeting Aida along the Nile Alagna provided good ring and purpose – and then shaded nuance his puzzlement at Aida’s imploring him to join her in fleeing south. Fabio Luisi proved his attentive best at not allowing Alagna to get precariously stuck for long on spinto required acuti to follow. (Radames murdering two guards during futile attempt at escape from the priests seems both indulgent, out of character). Despondency during scene with Amneris, despair with which to open the Tomb Scene and melos in head voice for final duet therein with Aida both got securely achieved. If not quite renascence of Carlo Bergonzi at lyrically essaying Radames, Alagna revealed an extra helping of nuance – beyond what may have in the Italianate repertoire been often likely during much of his past.

Olga Borodina was the regal, imposing Amneris. With years of experience at it, in fine voice sheobviated well the psychological complexity of the princess – also complexity of means by which Amneris gets her way, attempts doing so. With age, slight loss of certainty has crept in, in terms of keeping solid low notes, evenness between registers, but once past trio in Act One,, such uncertainty seemed to evaporate. Particularly moving during Act Four, an Amenris full of desperation and regret, Borodina overall made Amneris more the woman than avenging angel – stock interpretation that comes from singing the big Verdi leads three-fourths of the time. More than cantabile, melos for opening lines of Acts Two and Three, Borodina came across fully convincing as woman fully infatuated with Radames, then deeply uncomprehending of her passion going unrequited. Her feigning of concern even for Aida during Act Two, expression of empathy overall, was so good, it is still hard to believe it had not been real, albeit her ‘Trema, o schiava’s – as forceful, implacable as the best around - Borodina still insurpassable an Amneris.

Although without quite the natural bite in diction of an Italian baritone singing Verdi, Michael Volle made, secure across the range, ideal casting as Amonasro. Guelfi, Vratogna, heard at the Met, Convent Garden, Munich, La Scala, other places lack sufficient tone for ability to sustain it. Evenness of tone, assurance this way, by comparison, was here in spades. Along with fully humanizing the part, Amonasro’s plight, Volle frequently incisive with text whether using full voice or sotto voce, became all-encompassing. Volle’s catching the very circumspect and equally subtle conniving qualities of the beleagured king was all spot-on. The twenty minutes in which Amonasro must dramatically make an impression were such upon which Volle capitalized in full.

Not quite evil black ball of sound I found - as described to me by long time friend of mine who actually saw Kowaljow in London during the same run sing this. A relatively lean, still dark toned Vitalij Kowaljow, baritonal on top, mostly made convincing the both overtly firm and implacable aspects of high priest Ramfis. In providing solidity at bottom to cast overall, Kowaljow hardly ever came up short. Grasp of the solemnity of priestly character, simplicity of addressing Radames at trial directly both brought out the visionary reach typical of any good Ramfis - though vision being toxic - necessary to avoid resorting to stock villainy. Brindley Sherratt was tonally lean, all business as King of Egypt, imparting through ‘Su del Nilo’ sense of outrage out of supposedly being forced into (new) campaign against the Ethiopians. The smoky sensuous toned Preistess of Madeleine Pierard sounded probably soon worthy of larger assignments.

Several contemporary productions of Aida, probably good handful by now, offer setting generic as to specific time or location, or in case of Chris Alden’s in Berlin, updating and bringing action close to home altogether. Along with this arrives a new musical sensitivity - working toward eschewing making any characteristic pointing to much anything religious, political, social too specific. Repartee on replayed episode of PBS syndicated drama New Tricks however got me wondering about the good old legendary ancient Egyptians. From momentarily a much peeved ever headstrong Sandra Pullman to one of her detective co-workers - I paraphrase – ‘Say that again (and) I will make myself earrings out of your testicles.’ Ouch! McVicar already has accomplished near as much, as to how to suggest ancient Egypt - thus maybe not so good to provide him any further ideas.

Fabio Luisi opted for approach predominantly flowing, lyrical, mildly Teutonic in specificity over how to weigh, voice especially choral and brass sonorities. Having said that, Luisi steered mostly clear of replacing supportive line in the orchestral part with amorphous profile thereof, into which his singers should blend – as frequently occurred under Luisotti last year. Limning of string, then string-accompanied lines for flute made limpid magic out of preludes to both odd-numbered acts. Stark simplicity in building both Brahmsian stretti during Act One prelude was also insightful, as was measured pacing, attentive to getting rhythm precisely right and rests within line their full value to frame opening of the Tomb scene, infused throughout with limpid support for the condemned lovers, supple calibration of all else. Passages for brass, timpani, especially referring to priests, their asceticism Luisi replaced coming across (potentially) loudly violent or aggressive with bringing out dry sonorities strongly implied instead.

Attention to overall line and also dramatic interaction between singers, especially during the Nile Scene and last act – also during audience between Aida and Amneris and ‘Ma tu, Re’ during Act Two - was apt, mostly concise. Positive qualities to the scrupulous leadership from the pit also became evident throughout the rest, but most of the way until the opera’s second half, one had perhaps to grope around for being able to perceive any really specific point of view about Verdi’s Aida overall. This included streamlining of more forceful cabalettas - toward end of the Nile Scene and then during Act Four between Radames and Amneris. Alongside incisively minute attentiveness of Luisi to singers’ needs, while facing numerous potentially precarious moments, came some fussiness, thereby intermittently flaccidity as well, notably during the Triumphal Scene and for dances during earlier scenes.

Through the graphic violence of the staging, one could grasp issue of how any ‘lower depths’ regardless of time, ethnicity, nationality can get ‘marginated’ – word I learned this evening from repeat of PBS interview of Helen Prejean. I think word Sister Prejean wanted instead was ‘marginalized’ – during anecdotally wise citing of having temporarily resided in notorious St Thomas projects in New Orleans – concerning residents’ overall plight there. Or perhaps the word she intended might have been ‘margarinated;’ handful or two of mostly guys (Baker 13) at one fairly elite varsity, ‘Harvard of the South’ nearby opts for shaving cream instead.

Nevertheless good sense of purpose, resolve in mind here got Aida performed responsibly well, at last bringing dignity to bear upon David McVicar’s still relatively new production.

BBC: ROH Aida - Vocally erratic, inauspiciously conducted - Nicola Luisotti (ROH debut) - more off than for eccentric staging (McVicar). 27.4.10

Should Baz Luhrmann or James Cameron ever produce Aida, I would recommend that for a conductor to do nothing compelling to get in his way, look no further – Nicola Luisotti. The new David McVicar production of Aida at Convent Garden was to be one with something to offer everybody, with apparently mix of intergalactic space, ancient Chinese warriors strutting across, even perhaps as described, a touch of Addams Family. It all sounded ready to make light of several ancient civilizations – enough that perhaps several very great ones could or should have sputtered out after only just several decades. Sheer outright gore presented onstage was enough to give Royal Opera patrons and emcee pause – for what all sounded very bloodless underneath. For whatever universal meaning to be on display, we were to get an Aida, regardless how cartoon-ish it might look - short of real singers to get in the way - ‘de-saturated not only of its Egyptian-ness, but ultimately also excessively of Verdi.

For early phrases, momentarily, Micaela Carosi – not to be confused with Margharita Carosio - with warm tone, manner of phrasing, sustained interest as Aida. Soon thereafter, the wobbly top distracted, then through ‘Ritorna vincitor’ gulped low notes, and for strain she was under, the tendency to bulge the line and break it up into small pieces. She tended often to bear down for some of the most lyrical passages of Aida that a dramatic soprano will tend to sing softly, but not often Carosi. Hooty tone and flat acuti made ‘O patria mia’ go for naught – loud for final ‘(non piu) ti rivedrai’ – with sobs ending it.

Cabaletta to Nile scene duet with Radames (Marcelo Alvarez) hardly had anything to resemble either heroic sound or persona with which to match; it mattered little that Carosi was no more than just vocally adequate for this. After some good acting, subtly working Aida’s wiles on Radames, “Fuggiam gli ardori inospiti” got so heavily worked, colored variety of ways, one might think that Cathy Berberian could have once taken the part on herself, as example to follow. Much hooty, also flat tone proceeded from there to replace line, anything resembling real poetry to the end of this section of the duet. Not helping matters was Luisotti’s waltz-y, debonair treatment of the refrain therein. Russ McDonald for Opera (British) noted Carosi’s inability to float, make anything buoyant.

The hard swells, lunges, low rent verismo effects, as though Cilea or Giordano badly done, Carosi inculcated into ‘O terra addio’, with Alvarez in lockstep behind her, making it all quite unattractive. Marcelo Alvarez was notably the semi-heroic Radames. He started out at once sounding the eager warrior, dreamer of a Radames. Except for turning choppy toward its conclusion, ‘Celeste Aida’ went reasonably well, with fine sense of wonder and naivete to infuse the lyricism Alvarez can still muster for it. He also began the Tomb Scene well, but before long joined Carosi as equally vulgar partner, for the lyrical to exquisite lines Verdi wrote to close both their parts.

Incisive lines, including Pavarotti-esque shouted ‘Aida’ near opening of the Tomb Scene, frequently started Alvarez pouting in place of sounding heroic. One thinks back to how previous lyrics have handled Radames. With Bergonzi for Karajan and elsewhere, one had (nearly) sufficient heft for more dramatic outbursts, but as comfortably couched within a very well sung lyric line, letting what musical and dramatic imagination do the rest for his not being quite a spinto for it. If ever ran around a class-act Radames, Carlo Bergonzi was it. With Pavarotti, as for Lorin Maazel, we get a mere coasting through it, with hollow middle register, almost no dramatic or musical insight, except for his ability to maintain secure line. Alvarez, close to how Pavarotti handled things, layered on further attempt at histrionics, that at end of the day made one think better had he just settled for singing this.

Once almost all (in place of some, reckoning Pavarotti) poise leaves Radames, the game is up. ‘Pur ti riveggo’ got off to anti-heroic start and to a nearly derailed finish, with ending syllables of pouted ‘Io vi difendo’ - right before weak ‘Fuggire’ - breaking apart into a wild chain of diphthongs. He then lightly clipped, weakly bellowed his way through “Io son disonorato,” helping Amonasro and maestro for brief trio near end of Nile Scene make an indecipherable royal mess of it. Alvarez recovered poise for opening scene of Act Four, but too late and for not long enough lasting a spell.

Ji-Min Park provided the lyric, but wrong-headed, misguided Messenger on this outing. His voice is almost too sweet for even this brief, but important part. It was insightful into the McVicar production however how very wobbly mostly at knees alone this Messenger sounded. As in employ of the Radames of Marcelo Alvarez, it became clear why. Put before an entire Egyptian army made up of such men twelve or thirteen savage Ethiopians (McVicar could have decked out as Japanese sumo wrestlers?) and whole Egyptian army could have en masse capitulated before our very eyes.

The Amneris of Marianne Cornetti, decked out as Queen Elisabeth, in interaction with Alvarez, could have helped explain why. It is hard to recall a more spinster-esque sounding Amneris than this. Other than having Alvarez (or worse, Bocelli) in the part, what claims could have such an Amneris had on Radames? Understandable however the loud yawn with which Cornetti on her ‘Ah! vieni’s opened Act Two, given who sang her beau here - singularly unattractive all the same. Following comfortable feel for conversational, opening lines with Radames and then Aida in the next act, “Trema, vil schiava’ emerged with scoop up to it and uncontrollable beat on its opening F, to come across hardly threatening at all. Declamation at (lower) end of this line was first broken from what issued right before, above it, and lightly barked. Cornetti made almost credible enough case for Act Four duet alone - with Radames.

Amneris’s last plea for mercy to the priests got entirely derailed by closing at-break D that went almost entire whole tone sharp. And then how was Cornetti’s risible notion of a Fata Morgana laugh at them at end of her penultimate line supposed to shake anyone up? More than enough fuss was made over the costuming of Amneris here. Far preferable an Amneris in concert or office attire and much more fuss made over what Verdi wrote, as for instance, where Luisotti undercut Amneris’s pre-trial brief monologue by entirely clipping the rests therein. How Oedipal a situation had arisen here also has to be risible, perhaps along lines of the new McVicar production to show with what ease even ancient cultures could cross boundaries.

Marco Vratogna was the still weaker Amonasro, and in stormiest passage of duet with Aida sounded like taking skip, hop and jump down pathway of hot coals instead of fully enunciated pitches. Several got entirely lost, inaudible during obbligato to ending chorus of the Triumphal Scene. Tone briefly filled out here and there to expand upon still a non legato lyric line. It simply was not enough, except to break Carosi’s well sung reprise of “Ma, tu Re” with a loudly bellowed high F. Giacomo Prestia was hardly stronger as Ramfis, including during trial scene, with very quavery sense of intonation.

If there ever was occasion for ‘flip the ticket’, it was not McCain/Palin, but instead Ramfis and King here in this cast. Luisotti’s cut, heavy clip of between two and not quite three beats of rest before start of the trial of Radames certainly did not help Prestia. Elisabeth Meister, of comparable vocal weight to Carosi, shaped the Priestess’s lines with fine ease and legato line. Finest member of this cast was definitely the oldest –seen before on video of the former, I strongly suspect better Moshinsky production as Ramfis - Robert Lloyd as the King. Though the voice is not what it was seventeen years ago, it still filled the King – part Verdi reckoned less important than High Priest – with fine sense of authority, and still much solid tone, resonance.

Following along behind the rest of what transpired was the conducting of Nicola Luisotti, deft, light for most of the dances during the first two acts and for opening prelude to Act One, and with mostly secure enough ensemble and sound from the Royal Opera orchestra, albeit along with the chorus sounding confused by Luisotti’s flaccid accenting of so much of what Verdi wrote. For at how low voltage so much of this Aida ran on, from Royal Opera forces, it all should have been absolutely together. There was also an incipient tendency to encourage sotto voce reading of numerous lines from his singers, as he has learned from so many years of vocal coaching - late-career von Karajan example as well. It was seldom convincing thirty years ago; with so little character Freni, Carreras, Baltsa gave us, it is definitely not convincing now.

Supposedly tailored, accommodated to singers’ needs, there were a number of places where necessary firm support or underpinning to vocal lines went for naught -.for what diaphanous, then unwittingly shallow sonority Luisotti had in mind. Tempos were frequently mildly slow, but more than that being the case, inner vitality to even volatile accompaniment went for naught. Take for instance the Allegro giusto marking for surging accompaniment to ‘I sacri Numi’ during ‘Ritorna vincitor’ or ascending, descending viola, cello lines in unison under ‘Del Nilo I cupi vortici’ right before ‘O patria mia’. Take also the shallow gilding of brass chords underneath the King in recitative directly leading into opening scene ‘Sul del Nilo’ chorus and flat-line accompaniment to the Temple Scene duet soon thereafter. In effect, so much fuss tepidly left several members of Luisotti’s cast, at one point or another, regardless where, high and dry - nothing any of this cast could afford less than that. Same held true for Luisotti’s flaccid support for Verdi’s choral writing - as an aside his Ketelbey feel for the ‘Immenso Phtha’ business during the Tomb Scene.

Had Verdi been able to write Aida as neatly couched array of diaphanous colors, textures, it might have suited Luisotti, even late-career Karajan just fine. Harp for opening of the Temple Scene sounded tinny enough to have been mistaken for a ukulele - to accompany priestesses imported from plantation off the Mississippi. Boosted accelerandi to close excitable passages came across - instead of forceful - light, cheaply scherzo-esque. Such exemplified here close of both ‘Sul del Nilo’ chorus and Act Three. This turned out indeed a most inauspicious conducting debut for Convent Garden.

Much abetted lunge into ‘O terra addio’ from both protagonists showed wholesome confidence of the afterlife to follow. Breaking into it was, most likely unintentional, what one could construe as someone on stage having kicked over something. And yet the singing carried on. For realistic fear of meeting one composer on the other side, what then should be their, even our own take on approaching what life there is for the hereafter?