Met in HD: Manon (Massenet) - in new chilly updated perspective. Anna Netrebko. Fabio Luisi. Laurent Pelly. 07.4.12

Wrapping up Trebs trilogy of reviews for 2011-2012 has appeared a new Laurent Pelly production of Massenet’s Manon at the Met. Anna Netrebko may be familiar as Manon to dvd collectors from Berlin in production by Vincent Paterson, in which Manon in 1950’s milieu - all as though adopting starring role in her own story before cameras - or some kind of fantasy along these lines. Concept sounds Fellini-esque, but setting up plush atmosphere much its own likely suiting Jules Massenet’s music very well.

That a drier approach can work, can be applied with a frequently deft touch, demonstrates itself very well, in still one of David McVicar’s best productions, filmed in Barcelona (also seen in Houston in 2003, starring Elisabeth Futral) The new Pelly production, while competent, fell short of communicating such ability, beyond animated interaction especially among lesser personae – Guillot, Lescaut, de Bretigny, three Andrews or Lennon sister prototypes – Poussette, Javotte, Rosette. (Das Rheingold predates Manon by about twenty years).

Anna Netrebko both looks and sounds slightly heavier now than when she got filmed as Anna Bolena from Vienna a year ago. The voice shows a little wear and tear from further onslaught of Anna Bolena runs at the Met and run as Donna Anna in Milan. The promise of Netrebko delving deeper into heavier repertoire seemingly looms before us – Lohengrin Elsa for Dresden in 2015 and Norma at Convent Garden soon thereafter.

Were not Anna Bolena and Donn’Anna heavy enough? Fortunately doing these parts did not quite derail Netrebko’s return to lighter fare with Manon. Mostly to sensitive ears would it have been clear what toll previous forays this season have taken. Anna is certainly not quite long in the tooth for singing or playing the part of Manon, albeit that her having developed rounder figure physically might have made it seem quite so.
Diction and tone tended to a certain prevailing thickness, but handling of most acuti free, open and light (apart from two or several approached slightly from below).

For opening scene Netrebko played just mildly distraught (especially at point of ‘Voyons, Manon – sad song soon before she meets a just entering Des Grieux), but also with eyes fully open for bewildering world – looking thus far as though all an intimidating military fortress – at Amiens - to have now encompassed her. Opening ‘get-to-know-Manon’ aria, though slightly thick sounding, she characterized well. Farewell to table during Act Two was hauntingly poignant, but in midst of mildly disconcertingly losing engagement with Des Grieux before this scene wrapped up. Netrebko then entered the Cours-la-Reine in sumptuous dress, looking, sounding very well the Russian empress as Manon with, affecting her Gavotte, particular coolness, imperious manner to match; perhaps even Catherine the Great once entertained similar fantasies.

Vulgarly carried out seduction scene at St. Sulpice - more on this momentarily – introduced an arch, quasi-Straussian accent into this, in effect catching one off-guard. Musical and dramatic confidence however returned for final two scenes – at casino with singing and acting in grand style, then engrossing involvement for the final scene. For Netrebko in lighter voice and persona we have from five years ago the DGG Berlin dvd.

Piotr Beczala made an ever ardent, vocally fulsome Des Grieux, matching Netrebko in strength for climactic meeting places during the gambling casino scene. Slavic tone, diction tended to enhance considerable languor vocally, tonally, especially standing next to Netrebko. Engagement with recitative, spoken dialogue was very convincing, as was a sung on the breath ‘La Reve’ during Act Two. Beczala later negated positive effect of singing softly, deftly shaping start to ‘Ah fuyez, douce image” by unpleasant forcing toward projecting full-out by conclusion thereof. Vittorio Grigolo in London opposite Netrebko there got cited too for, alongside his ardent, handsome demeanor, some most forceful vocalism there too. Recovery for seduction scene, quite overheated passion encompassing it, was nearly complete, heartfelt engagement for final scene also.

Gravitas for first half of the St. Sulpice scene, for expressing concern right before (and then moral opprobrium later) David Pittsinger as Comte Des Grieux supplied in full, with fine tonal roundness, depth, fine acting, and convincing diction. Especially in regards to Des Grieux fils (Beczala), his part in all this, Pittsinger for a spell provided fine relief from the detached feel, distancing chill of Laurent Pelly’s production.

Even with some Slavic ripeness to match two others here, Paulo Szot made a nimble, savvy case vocally, dramatically for the ever shrewd, enterprising Lescaut. Bradley Garvin brought fine voice, tall confident charm, swagger to the mostly thankless role of de Bretigny. Christophe Mortagne, also Guillot at Convent Garden two years ago, had the crusty look, though with fine diction, vocal gruffness to unveil potential menace as Guillot. It must be for the wealth and riches of this dandy that he can offer, promise ladies anywhere nearby that any might ever come close. Mortagne’s looked, sounded slightly short on ability to close the sale, so to speak. Thoroughly vivacious charm of the ladies’ trio (Anne-Carolyn Bird, Jennifer Black, Ginger Costa-Jackson) helped relieve the dreary look of much about, including that of a very droll Guillot. (The recently deceased Philip Langridge had originally been planned upon to sing Guillot for Royal Opera),

One London critic expressed wariness as to how the wider Met stage might fit Pelly’s production. Much sensation of void, as limned by chain-link fence, multiple ramps for the Cours-la-Reine flattened out, with sets by Chantal Thomas, what charm suggested thereof. Hotel de la Transylvanie looked especially wonky, when it emptied of all people except for several leads, making it obvious how much its shell construction resembled, its dull green painted walls, the basement of a research lab building. A large round ball, perched along rear crossing balcony put one in mind of NBA playoffs only weeks ahead.

Alternating ramps, (metal) stairwells, imposing walls perhaps provided some form of symbolism – cluttered to clotted psyches of the corrupt demi-monde with action here having been updated to time Manon was composed and/or soon thereafter. Seeing the apartment for Act Two as cramped compartment up several metallic staircases proved quite disorienting. Gray, streetlight illuminated Le Havre for the final scene suggested to one critic at Convent Garden a pulling down of any veil of rose or pink coloring to have illusively gilded earlier scenes. I somehow missed noticing any similar gilding to have transpired at the Met. Still, the lighting (Joel Adan) proved evocative for Le Havre - of more searing tragedy, as acted out at the Met, than Massenet may have reckoned.

Psychological metaphor of this Manon finds a parallel in Pelly’s production of Debussy’s Pelleas et Melisande. Using a rotating stage, metaphor employed for this Pelleas saturated thereof already worked more fluidly therein than for Manon. More comedy likely informed the Convent Garden stage, within its moderately more intimate space. Some good comedic touches fortunately still surfaced at the Met.

If nothing else, Massenet’s music provides epicurean cover for what seedy aspects of the story and of what world gets portrayed this way. Stripping action, feel of this piece of its well-rounded corners, of luxuriating within comes with its risks. Updating the action can further help infuse this music of an at least fleeting nostalgia for perhaps better world left behind, while taking care not to overly sentimentalize action or scenario involved. Numerous ways exist to expose the hollowness at the core of engaging in such nostalgia – and certainly hinted at here. There is still further Pelly could go in replacing much cold abstraction with a little more intimacy, simplicity. Such again may have been a little better the case in London. Smaller space in London likely made more of surreptitious lurking about, voyeurism perhaps of numerous extras on stage various times – supporting cast also well involved.

Incidence during Act Three became most suspect. More camp than Massenet was formally attired male chorus line ogling Manon during her Gavotte, before stiffly played following neo-Baroque written ballet sequence. Intermezzo blog refers to ‘rapacious’ descent by these men upon, metaphorical devouring of ballerinas on stage as though “fluffy white chicks.” Similar imagery quickly occurred to me as well. Light elegance of touch to what earlier the Cours-la-Reine (promenade) scene contains one furtively sought in vain, for better than minimal fulfillment thereof.

Set-up of simple chairs in rows on stage behind down curtain felt apropos for St. Sulpice, such activity could make the case for being integral to succeeding action here. Gossip among older women fawning over their new priest played itself out very nicely. Bed to left front corner was simple, but still It was a bed. Mariandel noticing conspicuously large bed at dingy inn to help along tryst Baron Ochs has set up in Strauss could not avoid coming to mind. Manon lifting up her dress for Des Grieux and audience to see – supposedly compelling him to succumb to her wiles turned anything sublime here to just vulgar and absurd. The two lovebirds then went at it further toward excessively explaining matters. Charm, allure to seduction scene, also to relieve frequently noticed slightly contrived feel to Des Grieux’s ‘Ah fuyez” all went for naught. Grandiosity to closing Fourth Act ensemble sequences at the Hotel de la Transylvanie very well restored focus to proceedings – well maintained for engrossing final scene.

Fabio Luisi conducted, amidst busy schedule also involving forays into Wagner. At obvious junctures he provided fine lift, sense of esprit Massenet’s score, its celebration of life and of Paris exudes. Luisi’s impetus seemed more involved with the big cantabile line, where it shows up. In an understated way, somewhat lumbering about at times, Luisi’s feel for Massenet was broad, partly seeking to achieve fine grandeur that where obviously necessary he and his Met forces did. Ample support for his singers and reasonable sense of proportions was hardly ever in doubt. Intimacy, febrile anxiety for Le Havre fully won his sympathy.

More flexible hand toward fully engaging with lightness Massenet percolates forth was all one missed. A suffusing mood of nostalgia however did seem to form lightly applied cowl over this music. Equally contributing to flatness overall, at the Met, was this still relatively new production. One left attending this not so empty-handed, as just feeling loosely alienated, distractible.

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.

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.

MET: Tosca - Second (and good) attempt to produce Puccini thriller this season - Patricia Racette. c: Fabio Luisi (new Met PGC) - 24.4.10

The Met in one season has almost brought us a second new production of Puccini’s Tosca, though less identifiable than the previous. It still uses the same quasi-abstract sets by Richard Peduzzi (of Chereau Bayreuth Ring fame) employed for the Luc Bondy production last fall. Seeing the same sets is not reassuring. You would think from reading other press that this Tosca might be resurrected from the dead; one can indeed be quite sure it no longer belongs to Luc Bondy. With cast that has helped make this near-end-of-season revival happen, Puccini’s Tosca has though in fact returned to life.

One plan floated early on after first run this season of Puccini’s Tosca was for the Met to offer their patrons next season choice of both the just recently taken down grandiose Zeffirelli production and new Luc Bondy production. This was quite obviously not going to work, so how about for most of the new set designs to stay up, change back most but not quite all the stage direction to traditional and let everybody do the best they can, with committee (Gina Lapinski, Paula Williams, et al) to monitor things from there? From a conceptual point of view, it had to have made matters confusing, but given what audiences are like these days, who was watching? A good time was had by all, so we should rest content with that.

I still lack complete answers to dilemma lying beneath the surface of operations here, except to generically observe that it resembles the inmates having been left to run the asylum. Fortunately the Met has picked handful of competent inmates this go at it; in this sense, the Met has become very lucky. So much is specific to time, place, event and metaphor, with Puccini’s Tosca. It is at best tricky to come up with something innovative that really can work. One however has only to watch the Netherlands Opera dvd – also starring Bryn Terfel as Scarpia – to find it. There is also a very effective Madrid dvd (starring Daniela Dessi and Ruggiero Raimondi, produced by Nuria Espert), only mostly traditional by impetus - Scarpia cleric-inquisitor therein as much as police chief.

In quest to unearth the soul of Luc Bondy’s production of Tosca, a good place to turn is review posted at www.concerto.net. After reading off this link, one could surmise Bondy has arrived at it from world of the comic strip; mention is made of how effectively Bondy has worked for the lyric theater already. There is the Royal Opera Salome (also starring Terfel opposite Maliftano, just as for the Netherlands Tosca), but also a Don Carlo the Met would have been wise to pick up - most preferably over what they did instead.

So, given the character of last fall’s staging, how about having had Luc Bondy, if this was indeed what he had in mind, taking his concept all the way? Oddly enough, there are elements of his production that almost copy what some of us have seen elsewhere. Floria Tosca being on tough end of relationship with Cavaradossi is hardly new but hard to accept to come up with exaggeratedly interpreting their Act One scene together this way. She should be embroiled in petty matters mixed with her own religiosity with him putting his life on the line for friend of his and visionary political cause. This can sometimes happen even unwittingly in comparison of voice type, between the two leads. It did so too decisively in Houston’s1991 revival of Firenze production that had starred Jo Barstow - here placing a very weak, Russian tenor opposite Eva Marton. It surprised me how effective Jonathan Miller’s production is of Fanciulla del West (La Scala), dating from same year as Tosca here, once I watched it much later on dvd.

Playing Scarpia as smarmy demon, kind of one not to be so overtly menacing, as to be nipping at Tosca’s heels, was not new either. The Lehnhoff from Amsterdam even toys with this risk with the rather serpentine costume it handed Bryn Terfel. Ira Siff demeaned last Saturday Terfel uselessly bringing on stage with him a cat in Amsterdam to start Act Two. Does anybody remember how funny Ruggiero Raimondi’s first interpretation of Scarpia was for Herbert von Karajan? He even puts it down himself in the interview, with nudge and wink enough, on the Madrid dvd on which he is so very effective. The Karajan/Raimondi Scarpia definitely contributes to this Tosca being what I rate best ‘party cd’ of a Puccini opera for two generations. Neither is it new to ironically play Mario as acting completely unaware of possibility there could be anything wrong with Tosca’s news to him of their imminent freedom, life together as she imagines it, in Act Three.

Let us then throw in Met staff and attendant panel of expert witnesses. I speculate here – with their mysteriously to nefariously achieved poll data as to what audience reaction might be to an avant-garde, progressive or even simply irreverent take on Puccini’s Tosca. Luc Bondy’s Opera News interview last October was muted in tone to extent of appearing muzzled; it told us nothing. Other recent new productions at the Met, Jurgen Flimm’s Salome (2004) included, have looked confused enough gesturally to also possibly have been arrived at by committee. With new game plan, according to what I heard in nuance Saturday – much but not completely different than before – path of least resistance is to review again mostly a traditional production replacing Zeffirelli's.

Patricia Racette gave us the major up-stage of the season, suddenly to take Karita Mattila's place after making her role debut as Tosca in Houston last January. Mattila still has the greater amplitude, Racette’s voice is still one size too small, but almost on nuance alone Racette suggested toppling who now still might rank higher as Tosca – as though possible with a feather-weight. Those passages in which Racette passionately threw her all into it – though at expense of vocal capital - made for exciting theater.

Racette made Tosca unequivocal in her love for Mario, which in context of this production, made forgivable some unsteadiness around the break (remindful of her 1998 Antonia at the Met) and several unsupported high notes. She prudently let things grow only so agitated at Cavaradossi early on – to be more solicitous of his love than anything else. It took a short while for Racette to match Jonas Kaufmann in tone quality, but find a meeting place that way, they eventually did. With Scarpia, her sorrow for Cavaradossi’s supposed infidelity was heartfelt but defiance toward situation slightly weak.

Racette’s acting poise caved somewhat for first half of Act Two. A few lines, right into resuming conversation with Scarpia attempting to re-ignite her suspicions, still came off right. She then tended to coast through the interrogation scene, thus making something coy out of Tosca’s reactions. Coyness was still an issue through early phase of being finally alone on stage with Scarpia. It shows still a little inexperience, but also insipid type of acting to be putting on to Scarpia as just barely hiding much toughness underneath – i.e. the contriving or generic putting on of ravaged female of sorts,. Due to lack on Kaufmann’s part, all the way through rest of the time he was active in Act Two, neither he nor Racette made it seem either character was near end of his or her tether. This and all of the above was due in part both to priority in saving voice for Racette, plus some inroads original stage directions still made into some of their interaction.. “Voglio vederlo” still came off too tough, - but vis-à-vis Mattila, Racette made purposeful show of how to get lines off exactly right during critical later decision-making with Scarpia,

After stormy Act Two trio, Racette hardly looked the inexperienced diva anymore. “Vissi d’arte” had the right catch in the throat to indicate desperation. It was here that Racette’s voice, while still lyrical, beautifully filled out with fine color what she was singing – with fervor, secure line, femininity and poise, hardly compromised by minor pitch problems at very end. Acting, in the traditional sense was just about perfectly ideal for the rest of Act Two, with fine command of low notes too. Racette’s hyperventilating made having her remain on stage until very end of Act Two very effective.

Just as in ‘Vissi d’arte’, in vividly suggesting involvement and also great vulnerability concerning latest news for Cavaradossi, Racette kept voice lyrical and beautifully focused. The power she needed for solo acuti and several matching Kaufmann was then reassured for the asking. A little confusion showed with directed insipid intrusion of Tosca’s assurance of Mario being gone before asking him to get up (after being shot), but with adrenaline pumping, Racette capped off “Ah Scarpia, avanti a Dio” with a blazing high B-Flat all anyone could have given it; The gentle, solicitous ardor earlier for badly injured doomed Cavaradossi ideally said all the rest.

Jonas Kaufmann replaced the vocally smoother Marcelo Alvarez - all suavity before having come at too heavy a cost to the character of Mario Cavaradossi, at least under anything resembling conventional circumstances. Alvarez did not quite take things to tasteless extent of Pavarotti, but proved that ‘lucky Luciano’ means of going about it had not yet met the death it has richly deserved since Pavarotti himself passed away. Kaufmann, still following some post-modernist impetus from Luc Bondy, sounded confused occasionally – i.e. weakness in staring down Scarpia during Act Two and then well before his ringing Vittoria’s sounding slightly stronger, healthier than he should right after being carried back on from behind stage. He tailored his dark, baritonal timbre, just at first close to being able to mistake for that of Hans Hopf, to suit Puccini’s music well.

Kaufmann quickly recovered heroic stance for “Qual occhio al mondo” - after making too much light of banter with Tosca right before - yet with one G-Flat slightly caught in the throat. He started both “E lucevan’ and ‘O dolci mani’ completely mezza voce, brought, though affected, t a lieder artist’s intensity to the words and to moulding a legato enriched by real pathos. High notes, bolstered by fine temperament in characterizing the accompanying action, had fine ring and body to them. For both such vocal splendor and restoring so much definition to Cavaradossi, Kaufmann accomplished much.

Bryn Terfel brought experience as Scarpia elsewhere to bear in his depicting here the sadistic police chief. His mastery of acting Scarpia’s manipulation in doing business with Tosca, Cavaradossi, his officers proved complete – such perfect calibration numerous times of how to threaten, pull back, accommodate, etc. This was so, as long as Terfel did not concede to a few silly ideas that lingered on and to which he did cave several times – i.e. the oily demon interpretation that Gagnidze used as his model last fall. It is odd to hear Terfel attempt such lightly incisive stuff, since Terfel has so often naturally been inclined to go for so much the opposite. Terfel is good at affecting the Latin machismo and romantic ardor for Scarpia, much as Tito Gobbi had down complete Terfel is not yet quite the complete natural at this. Some hoarseness on several top notes during Act Two betrayed too some signs of aging.

This is however still an important accomplishment. Terfel’s voice is still in handsome shape, and he made himself clearly heard over so much bombast, to effectively close the Te Deum. He was prudent in gradually building up the grand line for his part in the Te Deum, while leaving it palpable the frustration and impatience that Scarpia suffers all the way through opening scene of Act Two. Whores on stage with Terfel most definitely sounded much more out of place than they did with Gagnidze.

Improved supporting cast was again led by David Pittsinger (Angelotti). His Emile LeBecque credentials should soon qualify Pittsinger for Michele in the Met Il Tabarro, given what ‘visually (non-)monotonous’ insights Jack O’Brien provided us. John Del Carlo replaced Paul Plishka as the Sacristan. He wisely opted for playing much of this straight, while lending his sound a little crustiness - also, exaggerated, going over the top on ‘Fuori, Satana, fuori.’ He elicited very well the attitude in face of Scarpia of just insipidly cooperating best he can, without responsible thought at all of what consequences. Eduardo Valdes, with it fine to keep intact the ironic attitude of ‘another day at the office’ with Scarpia, was definite improvement over a wheedling Joel Sorensen. Richard Bernstein was the dignified Jailer, Jeffrey Wells a good Sciarrone - and once more Jonathan Makepeace the wistful, very articulate Shepherd.

For attempting to do Tosca intent on turning the meaning of it on its head, James Levine’s and Joseph Colaneri’s tempos last fall were certainly too slow, flaccid overall. .The only way either one saw Tosca as being detached in the least was to make, late Bertolucci style, a picture postcard out of it all. Such a quality was instead a tempered virtue of Fabio Luisi’s leadership, as Luisi also proved a guiding light (back to Puccini) for his singers dramatically as well. His was the much better line in which the story could find context - with which to accentuate its drama, frisson, and also pathos. The only place he allowed too much slack was during the interrogation scene; brief trio to follow came off too careful by half. By time for ‘Vissi d’arte and Spoletta’s entrance to happen, all returned to being tight. With warm resonance evoking Rome at different times of day, the Met orchestra has not sounded better this year than on this occasion.

What made for a veritably Ozzie-and-Harriet level Meg and Ira show was for the emcees to affect that most (conscientiously not all) of the Luc Bondy staging was intact, when anyone who has heard Tosca even at most ten times could hear this second cast often giving us very different information indeed. Did, contrary to Tommasini in the Times, the freeze frame for Tosca’s leap get restored, just so Ira Saturday would not see Racette, late-career-Olivero-style, merely walk off at the very end?

If Luc Bondy’s take on Puccini’s Tosca was entirely indeed of the polo, ironic variety, perhaps the Met could have last fall allowed him unfettered access to what were his genuine preferences. Cavaradossi might then laugh back at Scarpia during interrogation and Tosca gasp ‘Ohime’ - and later give Scarpia a peck on the cheek right after her ‘Muori’s.’ Scarpia, while momentarily sputtering back to life, might then usurp Tosca with ‘Avanti a me …’ … or perhaps an ‘Avanti a lei' …

BBC Proms 2009 - Proms 56 and 59 - Luisi/Stk Dresden and Zinman/Zurich Tonhalle

Prom 56. Staatskapelle Dresden, Fabio Luisi. Lang Lang. Royal Albert Hall, London. August 27, 2009.

A most auspicious debut at the Proms and much inauspicious return to the Proms are topic here.

First off for Fabio Luisi and Staatskapelle Dresden was ‘traces’ by Berlin based British composer Rebecca Saunders, protégé for a short while before of Wolfgang Rihm in Karlsruhe. This was a study, sixteen minutes long, in sonorities, with minute adjustments to their pitch, dynamic, level of interactive response with other occurring strands. They so interact as to communicate as such, comparable in her thinking to vaguely alluded to text by Samuel Beckett and Italo Calvino, but moreover perhaps in their vague to quite metaphorical simulation of occurrences in nature. Luisi and his forces attended to task at hand with optimum care and precision. This would certainly call for repeat listening, as for what allusions one will pick up that might get missed the first time.

Interruptions of long held pitches, harmonics, overtones, what have you, by an isolated accent in percussion might be such to even recall the brief Ohio Impromptu of Beckett. It would be hard however to find any other specific allusions than that – not to risk getting insipid here. Needless to say and in manner that even gives impression of being even virulently fluid, this music does however speak, even in what a great extent allusive elements thereof are distilled to their very essence. As such, one will then hear them in this piece echo each other, overlap, oscillate around each other, with gaps suggesting that they far beneath the surface inaudibly continue to do so. That there was something to be gained from having programmed this became evident especially in the Strauss that followed later that had qualities brought out here, but thereby missed in performances lately of Mahler (see below), Tchaikovsky, and others. Brief, but fully reflective postlude followed a longer central movement, chock full of violent eruptions and feedback from them of varying focus, intensity, and scope, following five minutes of mostly calm six minute ‘exposition’ of a first movement.

Arresting about the Chopin right away was the first orchestral ritornello or actually exposition – how it got played here. One usually hears this music as too fully written out for the strings; Luisi kept ensemble tight and brought out colors and interaction from winds, with very fine command of rhythm and frame, that so much life was then breathed into passage and others that often land like a dull thud. At times if risk of taking such an approach is employed, it would then possibly make this music seem anemic instead, but not here. A possibly quick study with all this at the keyboard was someone for whom I have not expressed much admiration in the past – Lang Lang, in some of the best playing I have heard yet from him. He spoke in interview, as though fully convinced of what he was saying, about the operatic bel canto link (and passion) in Chopin’s piano writing; such did often emerge here most effectively.

There were still a few octaves and such that especially low were handled in such a way as to not quite ideally bring out their resonance – and those places, especially in filigree, where Lang Lang felt compelled to excessively gild or dovetail things. Subtle command of the French rhythm in playing Chopin is not quite there, but even so it is refreshing to hear what will hopefully grow some greater subtlety in his approach to Chopin, and thus that the broad brush thus far so common in Lang Lang’s playing and touch can start being put away at last. Speaking of command of French rhythm, one is led to think of how much it has been missed in half of the performances of Stravinsky ballets this summer (Volkov, Gardner, Karabits notable exceptions) and in dull Falla and Ravel the other night from Philharmonia and Salonen. There was fulsomely unaffected noble, introspective sculpting of Chopin’s melodies, to lead one to consider having underestimated Lang Lang's abilities and potential to further develop them.

The finale opened with mostly well sprung caprice, but including just playfully going over the top in clipping a bit ‘Oriental’- not especially Chopinesque – a few accented notes, light octaves up high. Bravura flourish, dauntless chord sequence arpeggios, in both outer movements tended most to ring true, as did a good share of the poetic rhetoric for middle placed ‘nocturne’ in the concerto. Lang Lang had in Luisi a superior accompanist and collaborator for precisely what he needed here – for encouraging what could be at last some emerging artistry from Lang Lang.

With no effort whatsoever, light so gradually emerged from darkness at the start of ‘Alpine Symphony’ by Strauss, as almost uncanny. One might have expected to get a little underlining of descending B-Flat Minor scales, but none was forthcoming. Once to ‘Sunrise’, the texture at this point was trumpet dominated, but with strings still emerging as clearly heard and in tune just slightly above, and with both at once clear direction to the line and full texture shot through with light – to scintillating effect. It was with such that Luisi and Stk Dresden, with cellos and basses’ lean take on Ascent embarked us not only on a hike up the mountain and back down, but one that took us deeper than this, as to the recesses of one’s own soul or being and how interaction with the natural world can live within most of all. This all happened without mysticism applied to this score from without – as for instance seems at times the case with early 1980’s Karajan concerts and disc – but as to be found solely from within. The opera “Frau ohne schatten” that Strauss wrote quite simultaneously with ‘Alpine’ I have already cited here.

‘Alpine Symphony’ is a score ornate with detail to practically hyper-Baroque proportions, - such detail that even the best orchestra in the world today might not be able to fully encompass – with moments too in this that are clearly over-scored. Without calling attention to anything but the music itself and what woven messages it may want to convey, the discipline of the Dresden forces and of Luisi’s interpretative acumen in taking so much on was highly exemplary.

The discipline with which this was all carried out was hardly at all the point. Transition through shadowy forest to clear and more airy scene by the brook proceeded in all a supple manner without any of this becoming slick or detached thus - with breezy, just slightly flagrantly garish downward chordal sequences in enhanced violins filling in perspective, suggesting first encounter with high elevations. Space was beautifully calibrated on meadow pasture for shepherd’s calls, clanking bells, and noise of sheep to all bucolically be heard in most natural and mysteriously engaging perspective. The almost bejeweled flooding ‘Dresden china’ waterfalls sounded arresting in their overlapping harmonies incurred in shadows hanging off them - all with great simplicity, sense of naivete.

Mozartean grace with sumptuous Flowery Meadows complemented the supple brooding eloquence with which Luisi so infused the reflective Elegy not long before Storm below; it also contrasted with prickly brass dissonances and caprice in winds for ‘Lost in Thickets.’ Luisi avoided all coyness as in dovetailing effects a la Disney. Calibrated so effectively, angry brass just started to crowd out tensile strings ‘on the Glacier.’ A little similarly found ensconced in thick underbrush were animatedly descending triplets through ‘Precarious moments’, suggesting in nature of the writing, a taking off in flight from one contrasting sphere to another - as for instance as taken on by malevolent Nurse in “Frau ohne schatten.” Luisi handled with great finesse the tricky transitional material to immediately follow that, amidst an atmosphere losing stability by the minute.

Luisi had his strings practically inebriated in response to heroic brass at C Major attaining of the summit, fulfilling tight scaling of it right beforehand. Lighter episode of thrown about shadows and light in “Vision” hinted at so airy a state as found during the peaceful closing pages of “Frau.” With fine, well calibrated preparation of all to follow, ‘Storm’ made a vehement impact while allowing in very telling shafts of light. In so heroically scaling the heights afterwards, Luisi may have been able to allow strings a little more space on upward scaling melismas; once attaining the crest of enormously extended and elaborate line, he had his strings playing as though possessed. It was with regret but no hint of bathos that things gently sank through organ benediction to somber depths from which all first arose, here near foot of the mountain past nightfall, or as though near end of life or on verge of a very long, deep sleep.

One had here not just the sensation of a great hike up the mountain - taking in so many sights - but as enhanced by such thoroughly idiomatic playing from Dresden, a much more encompassing experience. In Houston, we needed videos to enhance our ‘Alpine’, but definitely not here. With often lean, well sculpted lines throughout sections and internal nuance with color, sonority this in hindsight made the Saunders at outset seem entirely relevant by end of evening.

Had such Strauss from Luisi had been heard by more people here, the Met (New York) would not have scrapped ‘Frau ohne schatten’ from this coming season, in the great Herbert Wernicke production they own - so richly deserving of high definition exposure in our cinemas. Though Luisi will presumably conduct other Strauss instead there the coming two seasons, the Met still has greatly erred. One can only envy anybody so fortunate to have attended this - especially when it opened under Thielemann seven years ago.


Prom 59. Zurich Tonhalle Orchestra, David Zinman. Dawn Upshaw. Royal Albert Hall, London. August 29, 2009.



It was, after the Luisi, to come too far down to hear next prom or two coming so hard on its heels as they did. Mahler encountered earlier this proms has included a Ninth of great feeling and expression, though with mild tendency toward lugubrious at times, and an arched, angular Sixth that, though fiery in doing so, risked leaving perception of it two-dimensional. Nothing even so interesting as all this occurred here, though it goes without saying too that we had just had 'Alpine.'

In the name of ‘period’ perhaps, awkward, arbitrarily ham-fisted negotiation of the somber opening – here then too somber – opening of Schubert’s Rosamunde Overture got things off to a clunky start. Zurich Tonhalle wind principals delivered fine uncoached feeling, sentiment for their lines, but over unyielding goading from strings and podium. Strict handling of ritornellos in bridge from first theme to second during both halves of the body of the overture emerged almost as cross between pep rally and Biedermeier – with dry downbeats – noticed second time around – pseudo-enhanced by little swells on each of them. Other handling of thematic material was mostly adequate to coy; handling of ascending triplets in lower strings in the coda to this was so clumsy as to suggest full engagement in American vernacular to, anymore, hardly unexpected lengths - plenty vulgar for piece in question.

Poor man’s Berio followed in form of a set of Oswaldo Golijov transcriptions of four Schubert songs, as sung affectionately in good voice by Dawn Upshaw, with appropriately solemn opening to Wandrers Nachtlied, but with wonky diction and nuance of such – such as detached on repeat of the word ‘Schweigen.’ Exotic water-coloring of accompaniments came across as merely generic, insipid – nothing of real interest or persuasion. Before scooping the opening of ‘Nacht und Traume,’ “Das sie hier gewesen’, namesake of the arranged song cycle here, dragged on to exotically pretty but too saccharine filled length. Sentiment being too layered onto the surface of things and excessive breaks in line made the last two songs here seem to drag on to nearly twelve minutes, while in at just slightly over eight.

Such meager quality in being able to sustain line and avoid layering on, tweaking of the music for what could not be felt through and through excessively infused as well the Mahler Fourth Symphony. What point of view of the piece as given here remained unclear or completely vague. Such was true, other than at times to somewhat inflexibly and too carefully transcribe into sound Mahler’s instructions in the score, that is, while capable of staying faithful to them. Ritornello right before second theme and intrusions in on closing theme were strict to extent of denying each their sense of bucolic merriment, as though Zinman to be good at his Mahler, sophistication at it should be one distance removed from such considerations. Massage of close to first theme reprise ending to Exposition did not help matters, but horn solo for once was fine after ignored crescendo in concertmaster solo starting the Development section. String section negotiation of contrapuntal writing and of transitions therein vacillated between being too stiff and downright sloppy. Trumpet call preview of Mahler 5 segueing the recap, through alternatively clipping it and letting the line sag towards end lost all its shape - following enormous thud on timpani

Zinman unintentionally infused more parody into Mahler than already exists by having horns play more loudly their obbligato than line in the strings during recap of first theme. Even the French horn solo at the very close of the first movement barely rescued feeling from having altogether become too sniffy, precious at this point. There was achieved decent character from solos during the macabre scherzo, not lightly enough macabre to be disquieting really - with it slightly arbitrary whether to underline places therein or just have his Zurich forces just read through them. Display of how Zurich double-basses can play assigned increasingly wide interval glissandi was good but just seemed mostly to serve that purpose alone.

Pacing, structural grasp of the Adagio (‘Ruhevoll’) here was fairly solid and expressive limning of alternatively radiant and anguished lines in this pointed well numerous times. It all carried on however in manner of muzak right before the opening of the gates of paradise – opened by very awkwardly broken end of upbeat prepared downbeat. Line connecting episodes of the Adagio though tended to plod; negotiation of those episodes of sudden change of tempo to much faster, for sake of parody, seemed too careful by half. First-stand woodwinds provided most expressive relief for this in what otherwise for slack in the line seemed mildly slower pace than usual, but hardly was at all.

For greater attention to diction and infusing so many lines with childlike wonder, Dawn Upshaw sounded considerably more at home with the finale to the Mahler than with contrivance on program for first half of this concert. Her understanding of parody in Mahler in a way upstaged that of David Zinman a couple of different times here – element of such so understated earlier. Zinman showed up to be on same page with Upshaw on introspective modal harmonized interludes during this movement and gently undulating, just almost stumbling pace to the opening of the movement, as should be. Upshaw only overcooked things in beginning last stanza of the finale in too much the childlike manner; at this point, we have in Mahler the adult’s view of the child’s vision of ‘himmlische leben’, as music indicates here; what joy and spring she brought to ‘tanzen and springen’ and so much dance and parody with all the rest.

If, as an aside here, Royal Albert Hall reverb had perhaps been a bit thick for moments of Strauss’s Alpine Symphony, Zinman left more than room enough in his negotiation of textures of the Mahler, in that they are already better economized than in the Strauss; it was however the Strauss that became fully memorable this past week.