MET: Met McVicar Il Trovatore (in HD). Marco Armiliato. 30.4.11. Met Ariadne auf Naxos (on NPR) - Fabio Luisi.07.5.11

David McVicar’s production of Il Trovatore at the Met, when it first opened there in 2008-2009 became something of a Godsend, particularly after Graham Vick’s production. Vick later disowned it, after the Met had imposed some changes upon it, but also after really disastrous luck in making this ever reliable old warhorse come to life. Should one want to pick up the ideal party opera dvd, a Genoa Lucia di Lammermoor Vick produced, starring Marcelo Alvarez in only decent vocal performance therein, contends strongly, misfiring in all ways imaginable, often risibly so.

The spring 2009 broadcast Il Trovatore – with same vocal quartet as cast here – likely turned out, with Gianandrea Noseda conducting, tmost thrilling of that season. Equally to only mildly more authoritatively was Bruno Bartoletti conducting this fairly recently from Lyric of Chicago – where this production originated. While less distorting of balances and of other subtle intentions Verdi requested than Nicola Luisotti in San Francisco, Marco Armliato while keeping all together and alternatively finding good poise and swagger for numerous passages, lacked much compelling to say about Il Trovatore.

David McVicar clearly has ideas about Il Trovatore, while giving it a critical look especially toward how participating nobility behaves. Given what eccentricity that can emerge from such a perspective, and based on experience thus far, this production looks to depend upon having a strong ally on the podium to help keep dramatic tension alive. The action is updated to ‘Goya period’ Spanish Civil War - and placed on a turntable set. Prison cell for final scene looked instead to be an outdoor prison courtyard to which to get chained up. Only too obvious awkwardness was change from cramped interior to ‘outdoors scaffolding’ - preceding ‘Di quella pira’

The brutality of period in history in question, sense of class warfare arose eloquently to the fore, near as much as likely on previous outings. Mix of common townspeople, laborers, Gypsies, soldiers milling about, and then generically lusty whores for scene of taking leisure opening Act Three provides color. Swashbuckling motif became slightly excessive, but with set up of tableau for confrontation ending Act Two highly adept. Lighting tends to be consistently dark – also manner in how this got beamed by satellite – to point of obscuring several essential details of action on stage. Costuming (Brigitte Reiffenstuel) true to updated ‘period’ – was consistently very handsome, attractive.

How entire milieu taking over agitates di Luna, Manrico, turns Leonora neurotic can, with somebody more thorough conducting this feed it an expressionistic grandeur and abandon – very welcome here – such as has transpired before On the surface, to Armiliato also, Il Trovatore is a singers’ opera. Toward one goal however of holding its occasionally disparate levels of musical and dramatic inspiration together, this is also clearly a conductor’s opera - perhaps more so. Crudely (almost) making orchestra more prominent than the singers of course is wrong – Luisotti conducting this same production in the Bay Area one most culpable.

Best of the three men for this outing, most even vocally, was still relative newcomer, Stefan Kocan as Ferrando. He cut a handsome figure with dark, grainy voice to match – excellent case for making Slavic equivalent of veteran basso Bonaldo Giaiotti on the old Price/Domingo/Mehta recording. Gruppetti, runs, turns were all accurate, even some trills, to make Kocan envy of any bass attempting this thankless part. He also, yet stoically, infused his lines during opening racconta with fine involvement. He in front of men of the Met chorus very capably led obbligato to Hvrostovsky during two ensembles midway through.

Central to McVicar;s thinking here is necessity of having a strong Azucena. The ever stalwart Dolora Zajick failed to disappoint him. Some streamlining of the process of putting this back in rehearsal for two runs at the Met this season may have taken its toll, but Zajick, with darting eyes for key moments, still commanded the stage. She stoically assisted McVicar in providing Azucena full sense of gravitas - for one so single-minded but also complex - in evincing both full warmth and menace – enhancing too the mystery surrounding the gypsy woman. Trills during ‘Stride la vampa’ may have been unsteady, Zajick’s voice overall may not consistently roll out the power it could instantly on command ten or twenty years ago, register shifts may be less even. Sense of authority though, from fine low notes through ringing top through most of her lines – was still intact. McVicar also opts for keeping Azucena alive at opera’s conclusion – logical perhaps in this context for her to have survived action thereof.

Marcelo Alvarez, who during excellently focused milieu of this production’s debut in 2009, gave of his lyric best – striking one then as only slightly underpowered for Manrico. He opted with abandon afforded him here to push a little more metal into singing Manrico this outing. Indisposed earlier during this run, he seemed to have recovered well to close this same run well. Ringing high B’s were intact, with fine swagger through ‘Di quella pira’, he managed to utter some honeyed tones during ‘Ah si ben mio’ and recitative preceding it, but still managed to chop up line somewhat during this passage toward making strong verbal emphases. Somewhat of a blank as an actor on stage, he emerged vocally most lyrical, convincing in the final scene of the opera, working closely with Zajick – doing so also paying off several dividends during their first scene together. Rhythmic slovenliness through a blustery ‘Deserto sulla terra’ to start things out was singularly unattractive – also his streamlining of refrain during the Miserere. His letting go of anything resembling good intonation for sake of achieving dramatic heft continued recklessly through Act One.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky played Manrico’s unsympathetic rival, di Luna. A little stiff at acting he still cut a commanding and handsome figure, with mane of silver hair, colonial style get-up, and during Per me ora fatale’ outstretched self-bloodied right hand – self-emboldening impetus for moments later taking on Manrico’s men – very insightful on David McVicar’s part.. Dark toned sense of mortal resolve carried across the footlights for recitative with which he first appeared on stage (‘Tacea la notte’) and made resentful looking, sounding ‘In braccio al mio rival’ later. Intonation issues surfaced for pumping out his sound that later intermittently turned into pure bluster – thank heavens less so than recently in San Francisco; his di Luna emerged entirely two-dimensional there.

Apart from bench-pressing the top, putting at risk maintaining legato, ‘Il balen’ came across stalwart, if less alluring than whomever out there might strive with smoother line to more subtly enhance it. Machismo in engagement with especially Manrico and Leonora, also an element of narcissism, surfaced well – compromised late by intonation momentarily going sour on him upon making final stage entrance.

Sondra Radvanovsky cut attractive figure on stage as Leonora, with noble ladylike poise for a good half of how she carried herself – still compellingly for the rest of this. Even if making Leonora appear willful or neurotic, a Leonora all noble, dignified without any sense of daring also obscures telling the whole story. Vocal placement, somewhat back, causing her to flat numerous times around the break, particularly during Act One, remains curious. Steadily infusing extra vibrato into the sound seems quite consistently her means of opening things out and achieving a clear, less occluded top better than might otherwise emerge – her reasonably even, creamy tone, legato underneath a mainstay. An excitability to laugh during several tense moments looked slightly out of touch – perhaps due to some streamlining this go-around. Superficially, Leonora may appear one of Verdi’s more passive heroines, but element belonging to Verdi’s earlier notably heroic warrior maidens, sense of new liberation they convey, can also factor in – if less so for Leonora than for handful preceding her. While having to confront di Luna, such likely should not remain under wraps. Radvanovsky looks fully convinced of how she portrays Leonora – apart perhaps from impetus to give things a little extra oomph she may this outing have sensed lacking from the orchestra pit.

Once past Act One, intonation problems became less significant. Floating of numerous lines during ‘’D’amor sull’ali rosee’ – starting off slightly flat - and during especially repeat of “Per che d’’altri vivere’ - long-breathed final entreaty to Manrico provided fine allure, winning much sympathy. Maria Zifchak (Inez) and Eduardo Valdes (Ruiz) capably led supporting cast – Robert Maher also fine (Old Gypsy). Choral preparation (Donald Palumbo), natural feel for moving chorus across stage, all sounded and looked very apt.

Marco Armliato evinced fine mastery of idiom with aplomb while not challenged by Verdi’s more subtle demands. His ear for catching this music’s colors is good. Swagger, specificity with Verdi’s rhythms throughout first scene of Act Three certainly came across forthright. With exception of glibly coasting through explosive transition into closing trio to Act Two, necessary fire to seethe through Il Trovatore became more evident during its middle two acts. In numerous passages, a glib streamlining of how to pace this work became the norm. Opening of the final scene suffered somewhat - passage in which Verdi achieved new heights of simplicity. Efficiency, loyal support of his cast, decent ensemble seldom came up short, yet some lack of fire to infuse, surge underneath, propel forward the best Trovatore’s one can encounter came up a little short; hopefully the same will occur again soon with this production.

With Fabio Luisi now new principal guest at the Met, perhaps soon more than that, a generous helping of Strauss from him over next handful of seasons or so can likely be welcome. Like an Elektra during fairly recent Christmas holidays, this Ariadne auf Naxos evinced an equal mastery of Strauss, the idiom, but as held back again in part by quality of some of the singing. Combination of catching the healthy robust air, thrust of prelude to the Prologue, lightness to infuse much from within revealed somebody a slight cut above average at this – inherent qualities slightly more evasive to Kirill Petrenko (new Bavarian State Opera music director designate) last season. Providing, combined, a fine sense of gravitas and importance, with dollop of fine comic wt and irony was Thomas Allen, in interaction with Major-Domo of Michael Devlin – Devlin fluent, but whining, marking it excessively, making more of it than can happen.

Voice still relatively intact, Joyce di Donato, absolutely certain to look charming on stage, vocally left some of the youthful qualities altogether infusing this part lacking. Determination to get Composer’s idea across did so at cost to stability of line and to intonation, all quite slippery around the break partly for what flutter one finds there now.

The impetuosity, even heroic quality of this character hardly got compromised, but something of the charm, openly at Sarah Connollly’s disposal last season, went missing here. Mystery of particular lines serving as preview to what gets raised after intermission got short changed by weak low notes – high notes also succumbing to strain for lack of support underneath. Thin as opposed to thick and strained, coy, utterly without charm was the Zerbinetta of Kathleen Kim – repeat from last year’s cast – less up to the demands of her big aria than for tentative stab at it last season. Attempt to expressively compensate for obvious sloppiness, compromised intonation during the aria were excessively breathy starts to especially lines starting on off-beats - to ruinous coy effect.

Contrast of gesture, intermixing of colors, unified pacing to the Prologue worked well for Luisi - mysteriously somehow little at his disposal useful toward helping out some of his cast. Among supporters during the Prologue, Tony Stevenson availed himself directly well as Dancing Master. Violeta Urmana and Robert Dean Smith individually affected prima donna manner, habits backstage with fine aplomb. Vasily Ladyuk dryly, but capably, with good diction led Zerbinetta’s sidekicks – team only let down by a coarsely dry Truffaldino (Joshua Bloom) but enhanced by recent Lindemann Young Artists grad Paul Appleby (Brighella) partnered well by Mark Schowalter (Scaramuccio).

Opera opening scene came across slightly glib, compromised by merely competent Nymphs (Audrey Luna, Tamara Mumford, Lei Xu) in place of a more consistently silvery impression. Luisi’s lightly malleable way of moulding Straussian line waited for Met woodwinds to enter to cast ispell during prelude to the opera. Curiously, return of the nymphs heralding arrival of ‘ein junger Gott’ came across hard-pressed, Luisi then waiting for orchestra moment before Bacchus enters to magically open out perspective. His accompaniment for Ariadne’s solos was warmly supportive throughout – lightness Luisi usually best at conveying while accompanying comedian troupe’s banter.

Violeta Urmana, past several early slightly uneven moments, with plummy, warm timbre, portrayed Ariadne as woman of stately poise and resolve The clumsy breaks that can too easily emerge between registers during recent attempts at spinto Verdi do not inhibit her efforts here. Slight Slavic edge near the break sneaked in, but hardly obstructively so. “Es gibt ein reich” carried forth with even line, intimating well a betrayed, stranded woman’s darker misgivings, but then direct manner with rapturous coda to this aria betrayed a keeping at arm’s length what infusion of vulnerability might work toward revealing the complete picture. Urmana conveyed well, darkly Ariadne’s more distraught emotions - before point Ariadne fully awakens to, becomes cognizant of new reality before her. Shock of mistaking Bacchus for Theseus blazed forth with a ringing high A. Once transformation should have done its work, however, Urmana came across cool, only dispassionately able to take all in where one might expect more involvement, yielding to it until during closing lines; one departed hearing this grateful most of all for some fine singing.

Robert Dean Smith, intensely lyrical Tristan on short notice at Met in HD three years ago, got handed here the thankless role of Bacchus. In attempting to sound heroic starting out, some strain ensued; such hardly ever fails to show up from most tenors attempting this. For relaxed passages to follow, “So willst du mit mir” and confident ‘’Bin ich ein Gott” toward gently bringing Ariadne around, Smith let melt most effortlessly. Once into last part of this scene, Smith finally then evinced good moment or two of ringing heldentenor sound, bringing Met forces under Luisi to point of at last fully breaking free from phlegmatically, as opposed to effortlessly negotiating, sostenuto, Strauss’s ornately voluptuous demands.

From pretense up front of being written for chamber orchestra, yet to take on larger peaks of Ariadne/Bacchus finale ahead with similar transparency, little goes unexposed here. By opera’s end all then should rhapsodically take flight. Luisi is not one to come up with transformation overnight of how Met forces (that likely might soon be his own) will approach playing Strauss. He reckons it something to communicate by most unforced means, something natural to the Met’s playing to slowly get inculcated as only certain way magic can transpire, as opposed to smugly putting contrivance forth instead.

With Ariadne – when she is bad truly Ariadne Obnoxious - orchestral forces can not alone make it happen - instead working alchemy between all constituent parts, especially singers, perhaps working past clunky staging conceits (Elijah Moshinsky production the Met still cranks out). It can mean the difference between the good, serviceable presentation that has surfaced here and one to predominantly lift far beyond the footlights to very rear ceiling of the house, filling all in in-between.

NPR - SFO 2009-2010: Topics of exotic malevolence - Steph Blythe la zingara, Nadja Michael Judaean princess. Il Trovatore. Salome. Nicola Luisotti.

This I believe to have been third time in a row to pick up Il Trovatore in the David McVicar production, originating in Chicago and then borrowed by the Met. Sondra Radvanovsky has been cast therein as Leonora each time; she had already sung it well in Houston in 2005 when Lyric’s opened, to resounding acclaim. On paper, this Trovatore looked definitely reliable. On this occasion however, much unevenness became more the rule than the exception.

There have been issues all along with the distribution of breath in the singing of Sondra Radvanovsky, that for all the sincerity, good intentions she reliably puts forth, she has been able to disguise or hide quite well for some time now. Here due to a combination of factors she came to grief however. Some easier among extended passages she was still able to make buoyant – especially on any crests to the line that refrain from going too high, such as during arioso right before ‘Tacea la notte’ in Act One – and arioso outside the convent to poignantly help begin the finale to Act Two. Some narrowness, constriction of the flow of air toward goal of producing more sound just simply got in her way - together with compromise of one or two other factors she had trouble in overcoming. Sogginess of line and of intonation overcame La Rad for concluding ‘Tacea la notte”

The same issues plus inability to sustain line well afflicted “D’amor sull’ali rosee”; she then started the Miserere tentatively and until Luisotti freed up a little extra space for her, the cabaletta after the Miserere was flat and minimal in shape– with what determination must take over here. We still got the idea of some nobility of character, but much heavy attack and droopy quality left Leonora somewhat incomplete in conception this go at it.

Stephanie Blythe made the strongest impression of anybody here. Profile to the line, trill and other ornamentation was all complete in “Stride la vampa”, together and with fine sound making it all believable. Sense of narrative continued strong through tale to follow - high notes secure. By into pair of duets to close her first scene, one began to notice however Blythe glibly editorializing on what she was singing. If she can not believe her own lines as to what purpose she is putting them, how should we? Such was the case too during Act Three in dialogue with the Count.’ Blythe then started out well for the final scene, in prison, but well before a ringing, triumphant high B at the end, she very curiously began playing with placement, vowels during “Ai sacri monti.” Vocally, just about all the goods were on display; but so far this Azucena lacked real authority.

Marco Berti started off his evening by singing his offstage serenade too loud, then greeted Leonora wobbly, and coasted through trios to follow, lacking sufficient defiance for both to end each of the first two acts. He then started messing with his placement, pushing, forcing, chopping up his lines, and similarly forthrightly ruined “Ah sib en mio” with much choppiness and loss of intonation. “Di quella pira” lacked heroism, and it was not until the first half a dozen pages of the final scene that Berti rediscovered his gift for being a lyric. He then returned to making conventional brute out of Manrico as he sounded most of the way before It sounded too as though this reprise of the McVicar production had started making exaggerated shtick out of some gesture one expects of this production.

Such being the case, next in line so afflicted was Dmitri Hvorostovsky as di Luna – heard from the Met last time opposite Marcelo Alvarez as Manrico – an insufficiently heroic lyric for the part like Berti, but very tasteful in musical and interpretive choices he made. In quality of the singing at the Met Hvorostovsky provided, he was more than a match to Berti. Here instead we got a hectoring, bullying, yelling, unsubtle stock villain. He started off well, di Luna’s venomous contempt in Act One for Manrico showing up well. “Il balen”, taken too strictly, got hectored, became choppy and also quite venerable sounding – after blasting of a high G right before the aria to reveal to any doubters what vocal prowess he has left.

Hvoirostovsky later then made incredulity of di Luna at what is only apparent change in romantic fortune for di Luna exaggerated to point of schoolboy naivete. One only heard vestiges, passage here and there to indicate either the still natural beauty of Hvorostovsky’s voice or of his ability to make anything more elevated than cardboard, two-dimensional of the Count. Most musical and sounding good in intent were Messenger, Ines, and the pensive Ruiz. Burak Bilgili, sounding well as though he fully understood the part of Ferrando, was vocally uneven with tremulous handling of some sustained notes, but halfway decent mastery of tricky turns and gruppetti for his opening racconta.

Nicola Luisotti conducted an utterly shapeless Trovatore. He frequently secured good sound out of the San Francisco opera orchestra, but with sound while under pressure, that got pushed up, even hooty, unyielding. He has figured out from somewhere how to dig in, make the most of the darkest, most brooding transitions in this opera, but even at times framing a (lengthy) phrase, often failed to make something to connect a succeeding number to such gesture in the opera.

Before the cabaletta had really become obsolete, Verdi through incisive marking and exact tempo markings, made something of them in Trovatore to push action forward - to even begin redefining the concept as something to perhaps have exited more quickly than it had, had Verdi ignored doing so. Here then comes Luisotti to take all the sap, the gas out of these passages, not for tempo being wrong or eccentric, as just being so willing to lightly put his orchestra on auto-pilot and gently coast right through. There were places too, in quasi-improvisatory writing, especially for instance in Leonora’s Act Four aria, even before changeover to that therein Luisotti must have reckoned having transcended issue of who should be following whom – issue having threatened to arise several times already. After unevenly light, weightless accompaniment to duet and cabaletta with the Count to come, he started the final scene with good, circumspect weighting of what transpired, but once just past Leonora’s final entreaties to Manrico at point the Count has entered, too late for entreaty to do much of any good, Luisotti insisted on mechanically pacing Leonora’s descant in string of broken appoggiaturas to extent it no longer made sense how this passage got written so expressively.

Luisotti’s jumping over rests before start of two different sections, for instance giving Marco Berti a really hard push into his first duet with Azucena in Act Two, was equally inelegant. Indecisively, he first rushed brief interlude into the Count’s first entrance in Act One, then jerked the passage back to apply Karajan-esque weight on chords right before moment the Count enters. With Marco Berti eventually entering flat, Luisotti distorted rhythm of a rushed Miserere in Act Four to where it became something resembling being in three, several minutes after sensitive pointing of concertato in winds opening Act Four. His pulverizing of the opera’s final chords in E-Flat Minor, targeted with silly accelerando, was so hard that final chord upon which Trovatore lands was hardly anymore identifiable.

This was conducting at times so insensitive both to Verdi’s demands and to singers, it made one momentarily doubt even Luisotti’s credentials as a coach; he however skillfully managed to avoid falling into several traps for unwary conductors the score offers, even practically with aplomb, to indicate that such ‘taking control’ of it all, likely had as much to do with ego as with inexperience – so much so at several points that it practically made one wish that his vanity could have taken him far enough to fall right in. In return, he got the worst performances I have heard yet from his two male leads, including the previously fine lyric tenor Marco Berti, and also arguably from Sondra Radvanovsky. Luisotti got Berti off on the wrong foot, by allowing him to sound as though standing right before the footlights for the very (and most often) offstage beginning to his part. Having this even sound placed halfway so far forward begins to make nonsense out of the dramatic situation - such out of which one can only construe what a real goof Leonora must be.

Extraneous stage noise, such as near start of a crudely pumped Anvil Chorus indicated well a lack of focus or even of purpose to the entire effort here. Nothing happened to either erase memory of Bruno Bartoletti’s highly authoritative conducting, pacing of Trovatore with Lyric on his fiftieth anniversary with Lyric, or of even shockingly near as good, Gianandrea Noseda’s conducting of what turned into a new Met production two years later in 2009. Walter Fracarro, a certainly less ingratiating lyric than Berti I hope still can be, made more sense overall of Manrico in Chicago; Radvanovsky proved much more up to the still more daunting task of singing Leonora on both occasions. Hvorstovsky had also been very fine as di Luna.

Hardly more satisfyingly turned out Strauss’s Salome, except mostly for the expertly turned Herod of Kim Begley. This was Nicola Luisotti’s first attempt to conduct Salome, and certainly while some allowance should be made, there appeared little relevant impetus behind taking it on.

Nadja Michael, mezzo converted up to being a soprano, made somewhat heavy weather of the Judaean princess. Whereas in the past Grace Bumbry might have been squallier in her stab at it, had Michael put the level or amount of energy into acting and singing it, it is hard to imagine how it would not have turned out squallier than Bumbry had been. A few lighter moments intermittently worked for Michael, such as where she first entered, for which Michael communicated the princess’s private nervous expectations very well. The well anticipated low notes for gaze down the cistern housing Jokanaan were good, but Michael’s matronly ‘Er ist schrecklich’ on first observing Jokanaan above ground was choked, swallowed.

Michael’s first amorous overtures to Jokanaan had good simple ardor forthright, all going well, until having to negotiate the break and a very unsteady top. Incisive was her start to expression of disgust with the prophet’s hair, but with again having to apply additional stress on the voice, all turned frumpy hausfrau for about the entire rest of the scene - with Michael and Luisotti together carefully plotting how pacing of all this should proceed. Including her sounding hardly distinguishable from your average Herodias for some of the more malicious lines therein, the final scene, all the rest sounded carefully anticipated, but heavily vocalized, uncertain of pitch. She in effect made nonsense out of “Und das Geheimnis … des Todes” for their being no contrast at all between quality of her sound around what should be the break (and light there) and her low notes.

Irina Mishura was the stately, vocally opulent Herodias – remindful of Larissa Diadkova at the Met, except that Diadkova’s tone may have been the more sensuous. Here was a good piece of singing, no doubt, but seemingly misapplied. Not all sense of irritability and then evil glee about Herodias was lost, but vocal poise got maintained practically at all costs. Greer Grimsley provided a grim, poised interpretation of Jokanaan, but missing some of the fanaticism of the prophet, many of his lines cosseted by well parked orchestral support. A few notes at top of his range turned unsteady, and some of his final lines, which should speak more ominously than some of the rest, came across vaguely church-style – at least sanctimoniously right before the sonorous feeling with which Julien Robbins eloquently invested his lines as First Nazarene. Dramatic engagement with the Salome during scene together was minimal, but little provided Grimsley for it to improve upon that from either Michael or Luisotti.

Answered by very well sung, acted Page by Elisabeth DeShong, Garrett Sorensen proved musical, but a little strained by the part of Narraboth, and Sorensen at loss for failure to turn up much agitation or excitement underneath his lines – moment of the captain’s death handled flaccidly – from orchestra following, accompanying him up to this point. Beau Gibson led quarreling consort of Jews very capably, incisively.

Kim Begley was the least encumbered by any of the principals of this cast by the characterless, limp leadership of Nicola Luisotti. The energy, vitality behind Herod’s neurotic agitation was missing to extent it could have sounded ludicrous for Begley to compensate toward ratcheting it all up to where it need be all on his own. Begley had the right feeling of lilt for all the waltz-like character of music in attempting to make Salome concede to his wishes, whether Luisotti had it more than tentatively or not. Except for one falsetto whelp near the end of long post-dance dialogue with Salome, one probably can not remember a better sung Herod from Begley than this one – with his being prudent that it all be sung instead of barked, shouted, etc. One has experienced a Herod more frantic at attempting to make Salome concede here, but otherwise from Begley - a little unusual coming alone from the Herod - one could find a compass steadily working to mark how this music really should go.

Other than securing a fine, lustrous sound out of the San Francisco Opera orchestra, Nicola Luisotti’s conducting of this score, not entirely free of unnecessary vulgarity or of ensemble problems, was altogether tentative. Dynamics got brought down considerably from where marked not to cut into or altogether drown out singing by Nadja Michael or Greer Grimsley – and then not to lose place in fugato for quarreling Jews. Feeling for waltz-like rhythms was missing beyond just a generic best guess at them; snarls from brass intruding upon them and other intrusions lacking so much snap or menace.

Dance of the Seven Veils dragged, with Luisotti making careful, measured pacing of most of it. One got a little accelerando here, some clipping of rests there to bump up the pace, attempt to get some vitality going, but electric current of neuroticism that should run through about the entirety of this score went missing. Even some of the most obvious dramatic moments, that even a tentative Valery Gergiev emphasized well at the Met six years ago did not clearly register here. Some knowledge of the score beforehand was obvious, but not quite sufficient toward knowing what it is that might make any of this score click.

Underlining of contrabasson’s impish solos – one right before Herod’s first entrance – proved entirely contrary to purpose - as did Luisotti’s perfectly metrically timed runs to portray wind of which Herod is neurotically cognizant – all as perfectly steady, hinged as callous reproaches one hears next from Herodias. Following solo timpani getting the Salome motif as crisply as it should have sounded numerous times already, to introduce Herod calling his step-daughter a monster, Luisotti made all flat-line the passage accompanying Salome’s “Ach, ich habe deinen Mund gekusst.” Low repeated elaborate dissonance in organ and brass became unexceptional and equally as this, as anything else the notoriously loud bitonal chord to ring out several measures later. Question always remained of what might have drawn Nicola Luisotti to conduct this – both at War Memorial, then soon thereafter at Bologna’s Teatro Communale – other than to add just another staple to his repertoire.