Met in HD - Vocally strained lyric very qualified success to mark Met Puccini centennial - Fanciulla del West. Deborah Voigt. 08.01.11

This marked centennial of the Met world premiere obviously at the old house of Puccini’s first American premiere – La Fanciulla del West – so there was much to anticipate in marking an important anniversary for the company. It was also the first world premiere to ever be staged by the Met – starring Emmy Destinn, Enrico Caruso, Pasquale Amato and for Ashby the wonderful Galician basso Adamo Didur. Arturo Toscanini conducted.

It was anticipated a long time ahead of time that the Met might decide upon giving Fanciulla a new production. For especially those who take Puccini seriously, it had to come as some real disappointment that instead we’d have a revival of the obviously B rated 1992 production by Giancarlo Del Monaco instead – its taking after B rated spaghetti Westerns obvious and on purpose. Even in belabored attempt made at veristic acting to still come across as cheap melodrama, characterization of especially both Minnie and the miners succumbs to being two-dimensional. Fortunately deleted from this revival was a scene during Act One between Minnie and Billy Jackrabbit that depicts Billy in manner rightly construed as racist – as small time cheat and petty thief – to Minnie’s endearing bemusement – all suitable to strike an insipidly non-threatening chord for the wonderful postmodern neo-con times in which we live today. Puccini thought better than to include this episode into the final authorized edition of Fanciulla del West. So should have the Met – but we have for sure it immortalized on a DGG dvd from off the stage at Lincoln Center. It remains the weakest both musically and histrionically of three dvd’s of this opera to star Placido Domingo as Ramerrez.

Deborah Voigt, with endearing face made an energetic, spirited Minnie – notably her saucy wit (for instance while within earshot of references made to Nina Michelterrona or of request for wisky ed aqua) and confidence in taking it on - though one lacking in ideal vocal warmth, vulnerability. Such lack was likely due to the overall ironic glibness of the stage production, but just as critically hollowness to Voigt’s middle register. In easier place such as the Bible lesson, she could caress her tone to bring out ample warmth, but response to text being sung still remained cool. Her first telling off of Rance was incisive, but also revealed strain around the break. “Laggiu nel Soledad” combined coquettish touch and endearment with glee, but with high C going flat willed as much as it was sung. Voigt’s capture of saucy wit in interaction was good with the miners, diction idiomatic, as was the floating nostalgia with which Voigt could infuse line such as ‘Quanto tempo sperai’ during first interaction with Mr. Johnson. ‘Non son che’ elicited genuine feminine modesty and warmth, but ‘Povera gente’, her next arioso, though openly impassioned, had Voigt spending on principal slightly more than on interest to pull this off. Intonation tended toward dull, not conspicuously bad, except for handful of places causing Voigt obvious strain.

Matters had to wait until Johnson entered for Voigt to secure good placement and ease to sing Act Two. She found viable charm for ‘Oh, se sapeste’, though still slightly clumsy around the break, and achieved good line through large crests through it during duet with Dick Johnson. Minnie’s laughter over perceiving she has been had not to know Johnson’s true identity by this point came across cold; all the light swoops up and down toward engagement with an increasingly tense situation on stage expressed as much (practically squealy while in extremis) bemusement in playing it out as genuine fervor. After greeting the miners warmly in the final scene, ‘Anche tu le verrai’, Minnie’s entreating on Johnsons’ behalf, started off choppy, putting completely on hold the warmth that must infuse this critical passage.

Mostly, if not quite entirely up to the demands of singing Minnie, Voigt at least showed genuine interest in the character, compromises aside, some prudence in negotiating the fierce demands that Minnie makes on the middle register of (still halfway) a lyric soprano. Nobody hardly ever heard from Barbara Daniels after she sang runs of this at the Met (and filmed it– as seen now on the Met dvd) Voigt, in however tenuously she can go about doing it has Brunnhilde’s imminent at the Met. A real object lesson is to pull out the EMI recording starring Birgit Nilsson – my favorite recording today of Nilsson singing in Italian. Note the very attentive care, prudence in taking on any of it that challenges the middle register, while not cheating Minnie of any character or warmth. This was a class act - of a quality that may unfortunately forever remain elusive to Voigt

Marcello Giordani was the ultimately too lyric Dick Johnson. Except for a strongly willed and thus stirring rendition of ‘Or son sei mesi’ in Act Two, at least until having to squeeze for its high B-Flat Intonation problems were as common for Giordani as they were for Voigt. In part for being too light for this, combined with being so focused on voice as incentive to sing Johnson, Giordani came up very short. Easier lines showed refined deference to Minnie, but more imaginative impetus to sing Johnson than vocal was lacking, that is, of a lyric attempting it. More moving might be, in stressing the lyric accents of the part, to stress the bandit’s vulnerability. ‘Ch’ella mi creda’ was thoroughly lacking in smoothness, legato, thus something in nobility got missed as well. Strength of purpose, of character was overall insufficient to make entirely convincing Johnson’s clain to have found redemption in the love of both saloon girl and benefactress for the miners. With Voigt and Giordani together, with music being relegated overall here to subsidiary role here, there seldom emerged any convincing connection between the two, as they sounded across the airwaves. Same held true for Barbara Daniels and Domingo, in his most phlegmatic and slightly choppy rendition of Johnson, up against his triumph as Johnson for La Scala a year earlier. The naturally Italianate quality of Giordani’s vocalism just only about halfway made up for so much else that was lacking.

Lucio Gallo supplied the somewhat dry voiced, but also often reasonably menacing Jack Rance. Several top notes tended to spread, become wobbly. ‘Minnie, dalla mia casa’ , dvd, certainly weak attempt at being endearing allure toward Minnie anyway, started off with more snarl than tone. Gallo, reckoning his Rance to be one that comes up short in being that o the con forza variety, at least made the most he could of insinuating irony in confronting both Minnie and Ramerrez that here was at least a halfway convincing stab at the surly mining camp sheriff. In ineraction with the Sonora of Dwyne Croft, sounded a little more like the voice for Rance than did Gallo.

Dwayne Croft, the cartoonish crocodile tears Larkens on the 1992c Met dvd, asserted good unprepossessing leadership of the mining community, and a well cast one yet again, as Sonora. Edward Parks removed the edge of the glib silver-screen irony of Del Monaco’s cheapening production, restoring genuine humanity to Larkens – through very well nuanced, excellenttly timed parlato out of his closing lines. Hugo Vera supplied the ever energetic, eager Trin for either Trin being a very fit novice at camp or never-ending enthusiast for being there. Tony Stevenson was the always ready morale boosting bartender Nick, whether for miners at large or for a disillusioned Rance to open Act Three. Though overstating the case on one or two lines, Stevenson was also the pro at portraying Nick as solicitous on behalf of security concerns, i.e. toward keeping Minnie equally attentive. Keith Miller provided fine gravitas for a dark-toned, if occasionally woofy Ashby. Jeff Mattsey proved very entertaining as Castro, but seedy to extent that it must be a real dullard of a Rance to get even halfway taken in by such a character. Ginger Coast-Jackson was the smoky, cark toned Wowkle for Suzuki-type writing Puccini supplied ’this character, Philip Cokorinos the very capable, supportive Billy Jackrabbit alongside. Only the Jake Wallace of Oren Gradus got compromised for most of all being placed way too far forward – louder than those miners to belong on stage – making a mockery of how Puccini marked this passage. Also exposed were a couple of dead patches that have developed in the voice of Oren Gradus, that Gradus bulges slightly to hide them, but for the most part, compromises aside, provided the ballateer’s lines fine noble profile.

Acoustical space, how such is managed in this most through-composed of all of Puccini’s operas, proved an issue throughout this performance. Nicola Luisotti capably, efficiently conducted a score that provides its interpreters much in the way of padding. Some glib ignoring, streamlining of Puccini’s dynamics proved to be of some ccncern in several instances. Pacing and contrasts within were good, except for slight rushing ahead mostly toward sparing lyric voices for all three principals further grief. Much of the score sounded as though to have almost played itself – as can be inclined to happen with Fanciulla in its characteristics of both being through-composed and orchesrally the most heavily scored and lush of Puccini’s output.

Engagement with the piece’s frequently winsome wit and swagger and of its opening out of panoramic color, scenography was apt – and yet with all being said there was something missing, not all of which can be laid at Luisotti’s feet. Here requires a grasp, I suppose, of what can be only reckoned as intangibles, And thereby it is important for the stage director or producer for this work – not to mention for many ohers – to be musically astute. In this way, Giancarlo Del Monaco is not up to task, making a conductor still relatively green according to how nuymerous among us can assess his craft, still more of a challenge than it already is. Puccini had a gift for providing silences in his music, even with instruments still sounding from his orchestral forces, tremolo thereof, whatever. Should Fanciulla instead be good soundtrack to, Technicolor for action on stage instead, both Luisotti and Del Monaco were fully up to task, even Leonard Slatkin (Met dvd) – colder, more detached than Luisotti – as well. Much of the uniqueness of Puccini’s scoring carries best by sensitively communicating a reckoning of acoustical space, moreover an absorbing, psychologically enveloping sense of mystery Puccini already provides. Giancarlo Del Monaco, toward achieving this, regardless who is conducting, attains something merely two-dimensional of Fanciulla instead.

It is mostly in this regard that the Met’s centennial Fanciulla del West came up short Even Lorin Maazel, not especially a natural at conducting Italian opera achieves most of what went missing here – in part by being partnered by a very wise, just gently abstract staging by Jonathan Miller at La Scala. Numerous Puccini lovers have bemoaned Fanciulla being looked upon as second-tier Puccini – to some his most beautiful and evocative score of all. There is then hope for it to stand tall next to all four most popular Puccini favorites – Il Trittico as well.

LOC 2009-2010: Effervescently charming Elisir (at last) - Cabell, Filianoti, Corbelli, Campanella - January 2010; Season opener Tosca - Deborah Voigt

Dr. Dulcamara has made visitation on yet another opera company in the States, this time Lyric of Chicago. It was here that he would make the sale better than his other two stops on the continent, as performed by one singer – Alessandro Corbelli. The other major company to have had Elisir on over the past year or so has been Los Angeles, with Ruggiero Raimondi instead as Dulcamara (with Nino Machaidze apparently a winning Adina).

Most astute, clear musical preparation went into this Elisir, quite unlike in Houston under Edoardo Mueller or perhaps even under Bruno Campanella himself from San Francisco (starring Ramon Vargas and unsteady Inva Mula there). A working assumption is that Chicago used a mostly traditional production of Elisir d’amore, which is practically just almost always the best way to go about it. Once the charm of this simple comedy goes, then the game is pretty much up - the humor of it all quickly out the back door as well.

Conductor being the same as in San Francisco, I begin to suspect a co-conspirator among team doing the musical preparation for Lyric - Dr. Phillip Gossett. He it was who provided wonderful commentary on Elisir during the broadcast interval. He described eloquently how Verdi intimated Nemorino’s part for an Act 2 duet in how he wrote some of Gilda’s lines. He also spoke of the popular song origin of ‘Una furtive lagrima’ of how Donizetti pleaded with his librettist to be able to include it – in context of a very limited time frame to get things ready for Elisir’s first prima. However Dr. Gossett may have provided a hand just resulted in the most airy sense of lightness, fun, joie de vivre throughout the entirety of this, as though it all could have been played off the cuff. The fruits of preparation so astute and clear on something like Elisir d’amore are just that.

The only detracting thing about this performance was the quality of some of the voices themselves – some tendency to vocal hardness, strain around the break Campanella always made enterprise of finding a way in his accompaniment and for the singers themselves to find ways around it, and succeeded quite often at it. There were any combination of things – encouraging singers to give the rhythms in their vocal lines the bounce they need, to point the text with as much unforced wit as possible, and to caress the lines they sing and shapes within thereof. Of what I have heard this season from the U.S., there simply has been no opera better conducted than this one,

Nicole Cabell made the warm, almost sultry toned Adina. She tended to understate the sarcastic edge, the cold indifference to Nemorino, even some of the early flippancy of Adina in early scenes. Underlying her flirtatious character was a sense of there being a tug on the heartstrings – recognition of how deeply, even hopelessly in love with her Nemorino is. On the other hand, one may have sensed through Adina expressing herself in so much earnest to the audience, a lack of variety in accent, some blandness, but she stopped well short of making anything coy of Adina.

Enormous highlight of the entire performance was the Act 2 duet with Dulcamara, during which Cabell converted Adina’s enhanced concern for Nemorino at this point over much patter goading from the quack into equally joining forces with Dulcamara. His elixir is no match for her wiles toward eventually winning over a Nemorino who has started haughtily affecting that with elixir in hand there is nobody in the village to whom women are more attracted than he. Cabell’s very heartfelt “Prendii, per me sei libero”, even if mildly placed back vocally, was moving. Her command of long lines without taking a breath, subtle rubato infused therein, even if for some ends of phrases, Cabell does not lighten tone to fully desirable extent. Two very minor slips, in getting off cleanest releases for taking breaths during the at once rapid and long-lined cabaletta, were all that betrayed any more insecurity than mentioned already. Compensating for such was Cabell’s very warm low register and fine achievement of both agility across the range and generosity of spirit, so much with which she invested singing Adina.

Giuseppe Filianoti made his Lyric Opera of Chicago debut with Nemorino. His opening ‘Quanto e bello’ revealed a tenor unabashed in giving his lines much full-throated ardor, wile managing to avoid any too obvious strain, except perhaps on one optional high A toward the end of his first aria. For ‘”Una furtive lagrima”, he prudently eschewed attempting to achieve the sublime with this, with in mind first and foremost the simplicity of the aria’s popular origins – with just some hint of mezzo voce a la Alfredo Kraus for starting the second verse to it. It worked beautifully well for him and gave the obvious show-stopper its place within context of the entire comedy and very winningly so. Even if still spending a little too much of what vocal resources lie at his disposal, no effort of the kind unduly intervened on “Una furtive lagrima” this go at it.

What Filianoti had beforehand was the wit he put into so many scenes in-between the two arias – the rambunctious bounce he gave reprise of the chorus with his part in descant to them so early on. Also spot-on was his fulsome ecstasy in discovering the elixir, and insolence to others, as towards Belcore when things only seem to finally be going entirely his way. Filianoti pointed too the ease with which Nemorino can be so easily duped. He made a study in character acting here – requiring that he sing the part well - complete, not to mention very charming. His gently distraught ardor for “Ai perigli della guerra” – part of'Venti scudi' (duet with Belcore) that inspired Verdi’s writing of Gilda’s lines in quartet from Rigoletto, (as Gossett explained well) was most apt.

Gabriele Viviani also made fine casting as the haughty Belcore. With good command of line, he affected noble bearing well for his opening aria, “Come Paride vezzoso”, even the irony of it well. Just mostly to advantage, did Viviani revealwhat fulsomeness of voice he can command. Extra emphasis on bluster invited some strain, but the agility for runs and rapid patter, including in stern rebuttal to Nemorino’s entreaties Viviani clearly made known. Viviani commands a supple line, nuance thereof, especially when most relaxed - evident as Riccardo Forth throughout a Bologna Puritani seen here last year.

Nearly a week after the Puritani, courtesy of Rave and Emerging Pictures, Houston Grand Opera staged its Elisir d’amore, borrowed from Glyndebourne, starring Alessandro Corbelli as Dr. Dulcamara. By and large, let Corbelli be his own stage director, as Jack O’Brien (Met Trittico) and Giulio Chazzaletes have done, and out comes an artist entirely worthy of our trust. This Dulcamara was not only hilarious, but definitively revealed Corbelli’s love for both the part and the character. He even let on about chance of Dulcamara’s quackery catching up with him one day.

Corbelli made up for a little vocal stiffening that comes with age, with tremendous wit with the words. He commanded the stage here from first ‘Udite’ to both finish heralding his entrance and introduce his catalogue of wares and mostly elixirs with great aplomb. The awareness of all the highly varied whim and demand Dulcamara finds out on the street was acute, together with pointed parody of the clientele. Whatever trick might work with any of his clients, even if it is affecting amnesia, as with Adina, or befuddlement upon first meeting Nemorino (as though trying to keep pace with him) there was for us no mistaking it and no self-conscious underlining of the least bit. He even, upon reprise of ‘Io son ricco’ skipped a beat during the tune on purpose to affect catching himself saying something he should not, lest the cat get completely let out of the bag. Here was classic Corbelli, equal to any of the best he has given us in the past. With audience instead on or attentive to so much excess clutter, Corbelli too willingly took a back seat to it all, as he surmised what was demanded of him here in Houston. Such was our loss, but concerning Corbelli, all is definitely (forgotten and) forgiven now.

Guaranteeing that no number in this Elisir might seem least bit insignificant was Bruno Campanella on the podium. Take for instance the quasi-conspiratorial chorus (“Saria possible?’”) of girls, led by “Or Nemorino e milionario” that can so easily become so much marking of time. Between the very saucy Giannetta of Angela Mannino and Bruno Campanella’s highly attentive, but never obtrusive pointing of accents, it all instead turned out as much fun as all the rest of this very witty Elisir. Campanella’s leadership showed some awareness of ‘period’ in keeping string vibrato light, but without encrusting Donizetti with a level of tautology – of which it should never be in any need. While still keeping things a little subdued for it, he had the better shaping of ‘Adina, credimi’ during the finale to Act One than either Patrick Summers or Edoardo Muller. The animated passages that surrounded the moment of poignancy had all the air, lift, bounce, wit they ever needed. There was more detail heard throughout it all than we are most accustomed to hearing, not only for at times just Donizetti’s rhythms themselves – but for so very much that can infuse them with so much life.

The reading between the lines was also so complete, most of all in allowing deft space needed for his singers to make all of their words count – even at a few tempos mildly breezier than usual. All worked as though magically to the singers’ advantage. All backed off from contributing to a situation in which they might strain their voices. Much highly attentive rehearsal, sufficient time for such contributed so much – such that Campanella may have been denied months earlier in San Francisco; performance broadcast from that run did not lift spirits to the level this one did. All effervesced, bubbled here - even preceding excellent flute principal in the sinfonia - to extent as though no effort could have been put into it - indeed why to prepare Elisir so well.

Short work here can be made of the Tosca that followed. Andrew Davis’s conducting just about thoroughly missed it in line, sostenuto, and in sufficient necessary buildup, maintenance of dramatic tension. Past the dryly enunciated opening ‘trionfar’ on solo horn more color and nuance emerged for much of Act Three – taken less draggy overall than Act One. Even the dryly enunciated Scarpia chords opening Act One (with urbane manner for much of the rest of this Tosca) showed incomplete understanding of their import, even of the harmonic progression itself. Davis applied so much elision to in effect override scene of Scarpia’s murder that, as a result, he thoroughly deflated it. No, the heavy grind he made out of resuming the dirge that has moments before accompanied Scarpia’s writing of the safe-conduct did not help matters. Deborah Voigt could hardly be blamed for not knowing what to do with ‘Avanti a lui’, except to just do it by rote.

Deborah Voigt, in caressing so many lines, showed a very welcome feminine, even girlish vulnerability as Tosca that helped obscure some hollowness of midrange and wiry strain on top. It became a little too evident, however, during ‘Vissi d’arte’ a lack of grandeur of expression, but of course a very opposite way of playing the Roman diva has seldom worked well either. A little of such glibness carried over into Act Three, but not enough to ruin matters. The fear, anxiety in Voigt’s voice during tense moments with Scarpia rang true, especially as far as through the interrogation scene.

Vladimir Galuzin was out-and-out disastrous as Mario Cavaradossi – all thick bluster and little else, and even in effect, with as thick a wobble as he could let out, gave off ability to hit a good several pitches at once (at crest of 'Trionfar', for instance). It is such at which Buddhist monks in remote parts of Mongolia are adept - to depict varied states of nature, as host of PBS travelogue let us see probably the same Saturday afternoon this broadcast. First of two ‘Vittoria’s in Act Two wobbled out of control, followed by second one that seemed to get stuck on its second syllable. Number of sub-phrases Galuzin managed to sing softly could be counted on the fingers of one hand. There was little meaning to Cavaradossi’s defiance of Scarpia or of his circumstances, as so many lighter, more ardent passages contained the same bluster as well.

Garnett Bruce, for this restaging of the Met Zeffirelli production, spoke of the Russian pessimistic view of the final scene, regarding Cavaradossi, for Cavaradossi to be telling Tosca, ‘Don’t worry, honey. I will look good’ – in response to coaching of how to handle supposedly simulated situation at hand. One can not doubt Galuzin’s ability to look good, act well and have some feeling for Cavaradossi, but a much more relaxed approach to all this is necessary for any of it to come across vocally.

James Morris, seen soon thereafter as a disastrous Fiesco for Met revival of Simon Boccanegra, showed unerring command of the words and of even some of the gravitas of Scarpia, not to mention the to-be-feared aspects of this character. Voice was too dry to sustain well the legato for ‘Ella verra’, but he made much of the declamation in the Te Deum and of so many lines, playing off the vulnerable sounding Deborah Voigt, both in his Act One interview of Tosca and throughout the interrogation scene in Act Two.

Among supporting cast, John Easterlin (Spoletta), Paul Corona (Sciarrone) and sonorous jailer of Sam Handley distinguished themselves most, but weak Angelotti (Craig Irvin) and extra-buffo, vocally weak Dale Travis as the Sacristan less so. Angela Mannino made ideal a picture of boyish wistful innocence, as treble-toned Shepherd to help open Act Three.

MET: Saturday afternoon dress rehearsal of Elektra oratorio by Strauss

Word traveled quickly that this was to be as detailed an Elektra in orchestral conception as we might ever run across today – since Giuseppe Sinopoli conducted the opera for DGG (and perhaps several other places as well) some years ago. Deborah Voigt was in considerably finer voice then than as heard today. Now, and after hearing Luisi brilliantly do Alpine Symphony with Staatskapelle Dresden from the Proms last summer, one could only surmise that such take on what was about to be heard today and probably throughout this run was something a publicity person may have picked up either first or second-hand from rehearsal sessions, limited as they most likely were. Dramatic intensity together with current of neuroticism that should infiltrate got cut off for most of the 106 minutes of this – with usual stage cuts taken.

One stage cut was most certainly necessary today - that during 'Was bluten muss?' - as Susan Bullock could have, like other sopranos attempting it, easily come to grief with it otherwise. Impetus from Fabio Luisi for unearthing so much that this score has to offer was clearly present - picked up well in the more obviously translucent passages of Elektra. A too easy tendency toward arched crescendos and hatchet downbeats on strong chords was a little more exaggerated than would normally indicate a well rehearsed performance of this. There were numerous lines in this Elektra, in the second Chrysothemis scene for instance that had the attentiveness, nuance, ease that would not make it into completely making connection with more forceful outbursts. Such sudden moments in this score break in at what can often seem at less than a moment's notice to many listeners.

It is the business of the Met orchestra not to sound as though unawares at all on such an essential staple of the repertoire as this. Numerous places, such as for howling, barking dogs, heaves, groans, flute untethered tremolo hallucinatory flourishes in central scene with Klytaemnestra Luisi attempted to bring out, but got anywhere from emerging halfway to mostly smothered instead. One need not even lightly italicize to the extent that Sinopoli does with the VPO on DGG to make such places count, at from Sinopoli only mild threat of breaking up the line. Numerous orchestras however, including the Met itself seven years ago under Levine with orchestra in top form if still an Elektra not cast especially well (except Voigt and Pape as Orest and partly Hanna Schwarz as the queen) have done better. They have certainly more meaningfully, with company under Joe Volpe’s oversight previous Saturday Elektra aired considerably more naturally brought so much more nuance out as well – all due to better rehearsal standards.

Even moments of incisive dialogue such as concerning Orest keeping company with dogs in Atrean stables and of demeaning the manhood of Aegisth by Elektra got halfway blown off. One heard the pitches, the text, but the meaning of it all just rather glibly sauntered by. Elektra’s digging for the axe in anticipation of Orest's arrival just almost sounded jackhammer enough that one could have assumed a woman at it with the biceps of George Forman or Mike Tyson; rushing up and down of cellos and basses anticipating the murder of Klytaemnestra was competently played but still unsubtle, and also broke tension by starting too loud. David Chan’s hallucinatory concertmaster solos in scene with Klytaemnestra were at first covered up, then unsubtly projected over orchestra playing still slightly too loudly not to cover them up otherwise. This was largest indication thus far that Luisi did not get the significant time he needed with his forces.

Luisi indicated numerous times his grasp of the elaborate harmonic scheme behind Elektra, a good if broad sweep to the line, very likely broader and less specific than he would have preferred. The opera he was to originally conduct at the Met this season was Frau ohne schatten. There was often specific shape to the line so much so that one could imagine how much better and ornately adorned it all could have been, if given the time - such as was heard from the Proms last summer for Alpine Symphony – ‘Alpine’ that alludes to both Elektra and Frau at once in a few places.

The best quasi-indication of under-rehearsed conditions was a tendency to underline places somewhat too conspicuously, such as during the first scene with Chrysothemis. With the very thorough time that Luisi has justifiably spent in Richard Strauss, one should hope to hear him do Elektra again, but under more favorable conditions than provided here. This was not so much badly played as just so often a tentatively, phlegmatically engaged account of Elektra – not good enough for what is deemed by Meg and Ira and also many others too to be the best opera orchestra in the world. Luisi and Dresden proved last summer, by comparison to this, how much better an opera orchestra it often is – with Alpine Symphony – some of the Orest music from Elektra intoned so beautifully today by the Met brass, to which it alludes.

The cast today proved very routiniere. Susan Bullock, had I tuned in unawares of who was in this today, could have had me imagine I was hearing Deborah Voigt as Elektra from ten or fifteen years ago, except for an aging Debbie as Chrysothemis standing right next to her, probably looking at the conductor like the Elektra too could have so much of the time. From comment I picked up from across room where I was listening to this, they each could have been trained out of the same school of Banshees as well. As much as I would hope against Voigt attempting Elektra so long ago or at any time really, same must also go for Bullock. Here is a voice for sure too light for this from singer willing to mostly coast through it, drawing with obvious effort upon what limited resources she has available to get through this.

Mid-register sounded hollow, low notes slightly choked, often weak, and a conspicuous spread almost always emitted through the passaggio. Passage such as the fleeting seduction of Aegisth, which calls on the Elektra to relax vocally emerged with good irony and revealed late in the day some acting ability on Bullock’s part, opposite an unpleasant Wolfgang Schmidt, barking off pitch at times - hardly more unpleasant than perhaps should be expected of Aegisth. Otherwise, singing and acting on Bullock's part made an overall bland impression. As opposed to what others have written - as opposed also to what Schmidt has given us before as Siegfried - Schmidt was not the problem today – certainly no more than any of the rest of this.

Deborah Voigt, in place of succeeding at a more aggressive, frontal approach towards Chrysothemis, emerged with just mostly harsh and unfocused tone instead. The middle voice, pushed so, immediately turned vinegary and strident. Whereas the voice freed up nicely to spin off a few high B’s and B-flats, especially toward the end of the opera, numerous of them could have easily come off differently. Low notes - scary to reckon for Susan Bullock - for Voigt came off no differently than for Bullock herself - dry, hollow, cracked - even almost choked at times. Voigt, as heard in Four Last Songs with DSO Berlin last summer, can still sound good, when not being compelled to press down – so hard at times here as though trying to compete dramatically with Bullock. Releases off notes were often unreliable from both women. Evgeny Nikitin (Orest) slightly reminded of Tom Krause on the deemed classic forty-three year old (though slightly over-rated) Solti recording. One could appreciate well Nikitin’s dark tone for Orest, but diction was mildly questionable and legato just cut or two above patchwork at times. Still, he won sympathy for the very ominously destined brother - in anticipation of brutal task before him.

Of the supporting cast, all three men were fine, John Easterlin and Kevin Burdette as Young and Old Servants over glibly, heavily italicized trounce through it orchestrally, and especially Oren Gradus again as Tutor to Orest from also the 2002 Levine broadcast. Rehearsed well right beforehand was the start of the ‘Orest ist tot’ introduction to the same scene, but like with so much else, follow-through was conspicuously weak. Maria Zifchak and Wendy Bryn Harmer as Third and Fourth Maids emerged the best of their lot, with a fine Overseer in, conspicuously enough, Susan Neves. Jennifer Check, as Fifth Maid, sounded outside of her element today – in comparison with her participation in Il Trittico two weeks ago.

Just listening to this, set design for the long central scene with Klytaemenestra could have just as well moved onto the floor of Chippendale’s with the rattled queen of Felicity Palmer - by now somewhat of an institution unto herself. Seen recently on disc as so fussed over, italicized to death her Zita in Gianni Schicchi under Annabel Arden and Valdimir Jurowski was, this is not surprising. No doubt, Palmer has walked the boards of the rattled queen numerous times by now. Opposite what was promised by Meg and Ira during very gratefully an abbreviated edition of the Meg and Ira show, Palmer this time gave us a Klytaemenestra from, colloquially speaking, exaggeratedly the Regina Resnik school of singing it. There was here considerably less solidity tonally - less of a solid core altogether - and less subtlety with words for sure than with either Brigitte Fassbaender for Abbado or Resnik in the part. She lightened up to attempt winning sympathy for the queen in moments of tender reminiscence of long departed happier times; much of the rest of this came close to being barked.

‘Ich habe keine gute Nachte’ ended for an entire line down in C Minor a quarter-tone flat. Having admired Palmer well for so much in the past, her Klytaemnestra included, I reckon today that other than for cameo parts and Countess in Pique-Dame, it may be getting close to time for Palmer to hang it up. For old time's sake, let us save such a Klytaemnestra for camp on PBS British sitcom or something even slightly more debauched.

Meg, alongside Ira, rewrote history in indicating Elektra as having been written nearly a hundred years ago, which if it had been done so, would have put it after Rosenkavalier. Anton Webern no less found Rosenkavalier highly admirable but recidivist after Elektra. And then there had to be the ‘back stories’, except in the case of the Oresteia, these are not really such back stories at all. For tragedies that have been out in the open to cool and dry off in the sun drenched air (with taint of olive oil) over ruins for two millennia now – add on a few centuries as well - one expects a little more or at least should.. For acting subtlety purposes, perhaps even Felicity Palmer, even with estimable knowledge of her part could have used a little consultation by Susan Flannery on how to get it right.

For acting that ranged from broad to glibly passed over (as so inconsistent to have made this conceivable as heard as merely a concert performance), much of Elektra today could have passed as some bizarre, past life episode of something or other around 12 Noon weekdays. At this point should Flannery, certainly with many back stories of her own and for her character too to offer, be at all a fan of opera, I would welcome her on any Saturday afternoon in the place of slap-happy eager Margaret Juntwait. I certainly would hope then she might take up the offer. Fine to hear from you, Susan, just as long as you read the libretto, plus some pages of historical background, commentary before coming on the air.

- Comments dedicated to Lai Tzi-Huei at Cambridge - who attended a near-definitive Stk Dresden Alpine at the Proms last summer - and especially to Edo De Waart, who gave Jones Hall (in Houston) an immaculately rehearsed and absolutely complete Rosenkavalier for HGO in co-production with Netherlands thirty-five years ago here.