Met in HD: Austerely set, dark Slavic cast Anna Bolena (Met debut) opens 2011-12 season. Anna Netrebko. Marco Armiliato. 15.10.11.

A first ever production of Donizetti’s tragedy Anna Bolena, with some pomp, opened the Met’s 2011-2012 season September 26th; repeat October 15th became first presentation in new Met in HD season to cinemas nation, worldwide – also toward showing off hometown girl made good to cinemas in Russia for its first season there. Domestically, Anna Netrebko introducing her Anna Bolena to the Met was much anticipated, following successful role debut last spring in Vienna (now on DGG dvd).

There is some grandiosity, real splendor to anticipate, at least hope for in attending any performance of Anna Bolena. Even with shortcomings of how the Met has presented this, it was still valuable to have attended this, just for what work it is – that alone erasing doubts I sustained until day before the November 2nd repeat viewing of October 15th.

Peter Gelb, interviewing Netrebko before first curtain, spoke of Anna Bolena as part of a trilogy, hopefully to also have Netrebko star as Maria Stuarda and as Elisabetta in Roberto Devereux. Given how varied, challenging are each of these roles, it likely is prudent Netrebko has thus far declined to commit to any more than just Anna Bolena thus far. David McVicar, plausibly in awe of having picked up Netrebko at least for this, has produced it, having prepared doing so quite substantially as star vehicle for her. Along with narrow perspective provided, this perception may have become crutch upon which rest several other shortcomings.

Windsor Castle appeared an oppressively dark, austere place in which to conduct affairs. Luxurious pillows Anna reclines upon with young daughter Elisabeth and accompanying courtly frolic, gossip helped provide early fleeting moment of relief. Tower of London cell in Act Two got better lit than several socially prominent gatherings. Striving here aimed for emotional truth, simplicity by stripping away much bark, good enveloping, so to speak. Stodginess perhaps became a little greater for only getting to see little of world dramatis personae here inhabit, according to any greater expectations, moreover to unabashed Romanticism into which Donizetti’s music - still following somewhat closely model of Rossini - invites us. Persona of the diva Donizetti indeed makes center stage also got compromised, with Anna Netrebko decked out very often in awkwardly fitting, assembled garb. James Jorden’s exhaustive column on practically this issue alone makes highly amusing (and insightful) reading.

Sets for Peter Genovese’s production at Staatsoper Wien were quite austere too, but with practically luxuriant lighting chiaroscuro - vernally accented silken gowns for Netrebko and Elina Garanca (originally announced Seymour for the Met), complementing very well both figures, to match. Men costuming wise at the Met, Smeton (Tamara Mumford) on down, were better accommodated. Increasingly Holbein style appearance of Enrico served very well, then also of Hervey (the always reliable Eduardo Valdes). Enrico, affecting sexual assault on Giovanna Seymour early on during Act One, toward getting his way with her, looked simultaneously vulgar, timid, confused.

Gray inlay solid firm, weathered brick filled out heavy canopy of wood and stone - best one could make out through the dim lighting. Meager light for opening scene shimmered through narrow thinly slatted window panels. Opening out of set at stage rear for Windsor Castle park offered some relief – launch pad in effect for royal entourage to embark on hunting diversion or operatically affect doing so. Giant, lean, steely cold tree stalks descended from the ceiling, with then two giant poodle hounds accompanying entourage. Next thing you know, some giant (genetically mutated?) banana, grapefruit or celery stalk might then roll out , should anyone complain early on of getting famished - such as Miles Monroe very readily offers a chronically bitching abducted Diane Keaton in classic 1970’s sci-fi parody.

Organization of people moving about was all reasonably effective. Past silly moment between Henry VIII and Jane already mentioned, no further gaffes became too memorable. However capable individual cast members were of acting their parts, determined how effective interaction was at any given point – without glaring sense of major figures on stage being left to their own devices. Reasoning I hesitate to resort to however is that even in this very modern (and austerely budgeted – often selectively) day and age, what affects the eye can also affect the ear, including for singers on stage. Getting past that, attention can now turn to artist taking center stage – Anna Netrebio.

With good looks diminished more than how one recalls seeing Netrebio before, October satellite beamed matinee emerged better however than opening night. Acting, compared with how she appeared in Vienna, looked stiffer – toward reliably reflecting narrow world, perspective inhabited, as David McVicar offers us. Vocal production last spring was more open, fluid, employing more legato – resulting in significantly better intonation than in this first Met run. Equally unyielding as the set design was the often rigid, intermittently clumsy conducting of Marco Armiliato – particularly unyielding to singers at good handful of critical junctures.

Gaetano Donizetti makes Anne Boleyn quite a multi-faceted character. His music offers effectively, quixotically an Anne girlish naïve, anguished over personal guilt in her having had to take Catherine of Aragon’s place, defiantly incisive for defending her honor – especially while confronting Enrico but also midway incidentally during private audience granted Jane Seymour. Noble heights then should get reached for potentially heartrending pardon of Giovanna, then moral resolve in accepting her fate while insisting on defending her honor - toward phase of Anna’s wandering in and out of lucidity – such dramatically that Netrebko interpreted halfway well, perhaps still somewhat generically

Donizetti never came up with a more moving heroine, one filled out with more nobly achieved, yet comparatively simply adorned lyricism – especially during final scene – than Anne Wide psychological and musical range any soprano must encompass to sing this makes it unlikely that Donizetti offered divas any greater challenge. The more inward turning Maria Stuarda, more evenly sublime, comes across as some respite, while still being very aesthetically demanding.

Netrebko’s countenance overall generically looked unsettled – for brief reflection on how sad and taciturn Jane first appears and for affection towards Enrico upon first greeting him. Impetus here was to attempt building upon previous achievement across the pond – toward infusing Anne with more tragic weight, gravitas. Extra effort applied tended more to obscure than to illuminate matters however. Opening pair of arias best exemplified problems to afflict Netrebko most of the way through Act One. Thick production, wodge right around the break, and unstable reach for what lies above seriously compromised both phrasing and intonation. Things here started out way too heavy, especially given the natural lighter timbre of Netrebko’s voice, seriously compromising grasp of Donizetti’s internally varied melodic cantabile that on its own, builds, through variety of nuance, much character. Much snatching of extra breaths demonstrated much lapse in good judgment here. Semaphoring to Percy to discourage his doing anything rash and impetuous embrace of Enrico both looked stiff, awkward.

‘In quegli sguardi, cantabile during Act One extended finale, de-tethered both intonation and phrasing wise, but fortunately hardly any awkward moment occurred after that. Forceful cabaletta to this finale and then ‘Coppia iniqua’ that both meant rough sailing opening night became better focused, forceful this time. Netrebko fortunately restored some measure of poise, dignity for the equally challenging Second Act. Scene, trio with Percy, Enrico, especially in terms of confronting Enrico registered focused, dramatically succinct. Lyrical cantabile’s during extended finale, albeit without intonation being one hundred percent, brought out best the qualities that distinguished Netrebko’s Vienna run from this run at the Met. Establishing, making ring true the emotional journey Donzietti embarks his heroine upon during scena with Giovanna Seymour became muted here.

Stephen Costello, for which press had generated higher hopes, turned in for especially the first half a disappointing Percy. Written for Rubini, legendary for his brilliant Rossini, Donzietti supplied him the acuti, but perhaps not as much the opportunity for display – replacing it with more forceful rhetoric – as might have best flattered Rubini’s gifts. His Act One pair of arias always gets transposed down, putting much of its tessitura right below the break – where Costello sounded most comfortable entire evening long High notes carried sufficient ring, but right below, tone became thin, phrasing stiff – runs somewhat raw and poutish appearance hardly more ingratiating. Netrebko and Costello did not succeed in matching voices well until into Act Two terzetto together. Recitative into prison scene with Rochefort fortunately sounded less comprimario than such during Act One, as did Vivi tu’ flexibly molded, securing more convincing dramatic stance for Percy’s last important appearance on stage. Keith Miller made sympathetic, but hardly authoritative presence needed as Rochefort.

Ekaterina Gubanova proved perhaps slightly miscast as Giovanna Seymour. Agility over many florid runs was good, singing in middle register(s) always even, but until Act Two, upper reaches produced a bit glassy in quality and low notes somewhat swallowed, weak. Playing Seymour slightly disproportionately as fully sympathetic, as very sincere Gubanova is, registered awkwardly – and motivated especially through gran scena with Netrebko something approaching an incipient whine, distracting focus. Elina Garanca, even with somewhat glib, guarded countenance, issued forth more convincingly Jane Seymour’s complexity, in a way moreover the quite openly duplicitous character of her emotions. Anne’s pardon of Jane, also for the more compelling simplicity of Netrebko’s manner in Vienna to then match with both Garanca and Evelino Pido’s better filling out of accompaniment, became something more meaningful there. Through heroically approached, conquered Act Two (mostly) solo scena, Gubanova achieved an attractively compelling, successful Second Act.

Some baggage this new production carried along with it that may have encumbered even Gubanova hardly afflicted the Enrico (Ildar Abdrazakov) and Smeton (Tamara Mumford) at all. Abadrazkov made up for dry tone obstructing some of his efforts almost fully by imaginative phrasing, most of all good acting, and sufficient agility to make, insinuate very well runs, arpeggios to fill out line between much stern declamation, and conniving much subtly declaimed insinuation as well. The handsome swagger, utter haughtiness, cruelty while keeping intact Enrico’s humanity – was always compelling - menacingly with ‘In separato carcere’ - big moment helping usher in stormy cabaletta (Netrebko) ending Act One among handful of good ones.

Tamara Mumford, as boy Smeton –good model for Ratmir in Glinka’s Ruslan (that Irina Verbitskaya sensually made smolder from early postwar Bolshoi what can easily otherwise sound distracted) – best approximated emulating Verbitskaya here. Mumford might plausibly become the Met’s next Seymour several seasons hence. Coltish, boyish charm carrying forth, unencumbered lightness, insinuatingly nuanced agility Mumford invested fully made the case for Smeton being both musically and dramatically relevant. Smeton entering during second Act Two chorus had Mumford appear as though having just been let out from Abu Ghraib – but not stealing dignity from how Mumford infused her closing lines moments before ‘Coppia iniqua’ sallied forth.

Obtrusive, not so much pretentiously, more than helpful was Marco Armiliato’s stiff, unimaginative leadership. Mild sympathy for the idiom manifested itself with competent ability to keep things moving, maintain ensemble. Such however, even though common, does not really suffice at making the case. Abetting having Costello slam into the arioso (‘Ei vive’) anticipating his First Act arias was however one really awkward moment.

Compartmentalizing downbeat and pacing undercut great scene making confront two divas - then great equalizer of sorts, so to speak. Pido, better elucidating grasp of form, of Donizetti’s striving to break free of strict allegiance to pre-established bel canto procedures again provided better framework. Donizetti’s final revision of this scene revealingly made it, dramatically, potentially very riveting. Likewise, opening chorus to final scene – listen to Gavezzeni set (with Callas) for how intensely moving this can be – thanks both to stiff podium and tremulous Met women, came off flat-line shallow sounding instead. Otherwise, as tragedy inexorably deepens, Armiliato adopted a more yielding stance, better responsive to situation at hand for much of what remained.

With Netrebko, one can not entirely fail to find her musically and dramatically gifted, almost sufficing some self-critical acumen as well, but it seems a nagging complacency can often take over – after reaching a certain point with what she accomplishes – ultimately in regard to her vocal health as well. And this was a little more conspicuously her show than her earlier Vienna run.

Discouraging toward attending this ‘live’ was auditioning ‘Non v’ha sguardo’ from Met opening night alongside Renata Scotto’s (from early 1970’s Philadelphia broadcast). For serious vocal production issues addressed earlier, they were practically identically alike. Never mind Netrebko speaking of finding her own way once having checked out Callas and Leyla Gencer No doubt much got invested here – effortful too – with inflexible vocal presence always lurking beneath the surface matched with stiff podium - austere visuals over the long haul affecting stage demeanor as well. One had to have been impressed by what Netrebo accomplished, but through all this somehow seldom moved.

Met: Verdi's Attila - a Met first - Ricccardo Muti (debut) conducts new Audi production - Verdi's scourge on early 21st century voices

It has always slightly baffled me that Attila has received as much currency as it has for even early Verdi, as opposed to several other operas that never get staged here. It does have its commercial appeal - its choruses, ieading bass part, larger than life notoriety of the great Hun. It even contains a few pet would-be Wagernisms, while still safe for Verdi to include such resemblances in his work. How many times have we heard, quite mistakenly that Otello and Falstaff owe a debt to the Nordic bard? No debt here is really owed anybody either, but naïve choral writing a few places, not to mention invocations to Wotan, Valhalla, other Norse symbology, does crop up.

Attila, along with the immature Oberto, is one of only two operas by Verdi in which the leading character is a bass. Today it begins to get easier to name what even early Verdi operas the Met has never put on instead of those the Met has, this is the Met’s first Attila, in new plenty abstract production by Pierre Audi. Playing it safe instead of choosing a work more obviously complex than this one is Riccardo Muti, who chose Attila as his Met conducting and broadcast debut. I still await the Met’s first Battaglia di Legnano and I Due Foscari, but listening to Meg and Ira prattle on yesterday, one might think that Attila holds a place close to that of Simon Boccanegra in the Verdi canon.

Riccardo Muti, during intermission, invited perhaps us a little too well to see perhaps an error in conceptualization or two in how he and the Met went about doing Verdi’s Attila. First of all, to roughly paraphrase what he said, a good approach to even Attila begins from the podium. Even though Muti is right, there is with a piece like this only so far one can go this way without missing something entirely. With the new abstract production the Met has put on - explained in part by either Muti or somebody for what spiritual values might get brought to the fore this way - there is something here too that can too readily invite misperception. In the ways that Wagner, Weber, Verdi coincide, better elucidated by Julian Budden than even I can muster, the naivete on Verdi’s part is obvious. Certainly there are some moments in Attila where Verdi pulls off a certain gravitas for lines for mostly his principal characters, but there are also stretches therein where such inspiration runs thin, even precariously so occasionally.

Remarkable about Attila, to distinguish it from Nabucco and other early Risorgimento classics, is at least underneath the surface here the betrayal at least to critical ears some loss of confidence in the movement - even as to why to compose for it and so brashly. Orchestra and chorus, to help make Muti’s argument, rose prominently to the fore - even exaggeratedly so at times for such brashness and foursquare construction to come across as two-dimensional as certainly it does. Consider Il Trovatore of six or seven years later, Trovatore is characterized, much of it, by a thrust, drive, projection forward that begins to engulf the characters just starting to get swallowed up in vortex of the action involving their very selves. Verdi, in closing Attila, chose the option of quartet for principals, involving expression of their individual emotions, reaction to what is going on, over nationalistic hymn. In doing so, even for Attila, he chose wisely – only to lightly contradict how one still should most likely characterize Attila.

Here is the rub. It is a given that one is not going to make Attila work from just having a strong presence on the podium and accompanying attitude of high seriousness in any form so much. Of course, in terms of tight rhythm, making the more subtle pages of Attila count, such finesse as Muti calls for is to be reckoned extremely valuable. One though, including even Muti, must keep a little of the naivete in mind, or else one will come up with somewhat stilted results. Such is a trap, even after all the years Muti has conducted Verdi that he did not quite entirely avoid here. The thing most lacking in this Attila for either Muti or it was heroic voices. More than anything else, this was what was lacking.

Julian Budden cites Marini as being either the first or a very early Attila, a basso cantante for the part – in discussing the prologue duet between Roman general and Attila. Ildar Abdrazakov filled this bill somewhere between halfway and two-thirds well, depending on one’s perspective. He clearly sounded the Attila of the cantante variety, not the profondo;’ most of the duet with baritone Ezio, fluidly moving about in thirds worked very well for him. Otherwise, before ensemble following the papal confrontation at end of Act One for instance, Abdrazakov tended to push, and then his voice immediately became tremulous, wobbly, lacking in true line or legato. I even perhaps detected a few accents of the Sam Ramey interpretation and type of production Abdrazakov apparently had invited or sneaked in here and there. Sure enough, at end of Act One, there was Sam Ramey to stand right before this new Attila at the Met. Making way out of this moment and into later scenes, Abadrazakov more effortlessly relied upon naturally dark color and more relaxed means of production, attitude of sobriety to make something haunting out of much that followed. The part does in places hold promise for what is to come in mature Verdi – Fiesco, Guardiano, Procida, Ramfis, etc.

I speculate here, but what could have perhaps prompted an immediate rethink on Abadrazakov’s part, approximately halfway through Saturday was the brief stand-off with Ramey as Leone and anticipation thereof from his aria “Mentre gonfiarsi.” Muti gave the underpinning of “Di flagellar” all the forza one could ask for, but Abadrazakov lightly splayed on the D-flats to extent that practically all weight to his lines dissipated, giving ‘Di flagellar’ something of a Flying Nun intensity. Ramey’s Leone, once down several notes to A-flat from D-flat may have disintegrated into wobble, but his initial top D-flat or two matched Muti for sufficient heft with which Muti backed him.

Odabella is a part hybrid between Abigaille warrior maiden and lirico spinto. Violeta Urmana is more convincing as the former, but perhaps not by much. Her top, when not pressed upon, does sound lyric, much as Jessye Norman could often sound like a lyric soprano above the staff, and a mezzo much of the rest of the way down. Norman, however, stayed away from Odabella and similar. These are, after all, still two quite different singers. For more heroic accents in Odabella, Urmana mostly has them as far as making it to top of the staff, but above the staff, the tone turns hard, tight, and when pushed, really strident. Some of Odabella’s tessitura is slightly above where height of it should normally be for Urmana. By contrast, lower notes sounded full with time to prepare them well, but while rapidly so instead, slightly wan.

Most curious, in taking on such a part, Urmana’s voice now starts to show breaks between what might be detected to be as many as four, perhaps five different registers. There was in a way more of an Amneris on stage for this than really an Odabella, except when notes at the break, for instance F’s at end of ensemble closing Act Two, would also go slightly loose on Miss Urmana. In leading choral, ensemble passages, one or two in unison with the Foresto of Ramon Vargas, had both of their voices blend into, instead of lead the ensemble - such as to end the banquet scene (Act Two). The great romanza that opens Act One came across slightly cloudy – decent expression, legato otherwise – with smudged, yodeled sextuplets in cadenza toward its conclusion.

Foresto again was entrusted to quite pure Rossini-Donizetti lyric Ramon Vargas, whose top has already appeared to have again come a bit loose from middle and below, as it had often early on. I found it curious how fine a match he and Urmana made, with what heavier assignments are commonplace for her, throughout this. Vargas relaxed well on lyrical pages, such as especially for romanza to open the final scene of the opera. Notes, even for such, were at once both lightly bench-pressed and placed in head voice. Whatever forza Foresto must get across that a secure lyric spinto tenor like Bergonzi mustered very well, was nowhere to be found, however valiantly attempted.. Such valor brought from Vargas the bitter fruit of choppy line and at times questionable intonation. The Manrico-Leonora type cabaletta ending one long duet had to rest content for Urmana and Vargas to merely coast through it.

Most successful of the four principals was a relative unknown in Giovanni Meoni, to replace Carlos Alvarez on short notice, as Ezio. Nothing occurred here to overwhelm one’s impression of Abdrazakov; one sensed from Meoni too a little squeeze above the staff in reaching notes there. He had the most comfortable time though, essaying his lines, finding fine variety of color to nuance them and make, if a somewhat lean, still a forceful impression, even at the Met. The fine bloom on his voice, musical sensitivity and fine profiling of his lines throughout the brief afternoon made a few passages of Ezio’s music sound the best that they could. Russell Thomas was the equally incisive Uldino to the Foresto of Ramon Vargas, though obviously assigned the simpler task – Thomas first introduced to many of us at the Met in HD Macbeth as Malcolm.

The prelude to Attila started things off well, with good ominous color from lower reaches. Color Muti drew especially out of the Met winds and mostly flexible support he very capably gave all his cast offered much promise.. Even if this could have been an Attila without singers, Muti’s success with Attila one would still best judge as qualified – even with his having made his work in Verdi of practically legendary status at La Scala, drawing higher standards of playing and choral singing there than is most likely still possible today. If there was way in which one found a lapse in the quality of Muti’s work, it was not all due to Muti curiously not placing it quite entirely in perspective the thinness of inspiration in some of Verdi’s writing here. Such first became conspicuous from clean, but wan sounding violins during the prelude on their unison lines over brass.

Imbalance of voices toward end of Act Two that failed to make ensemble closing it calibrate as well as it should have was beyond Muti’s control, as was Abadrazakov’s solo entry of recitative between mostly a cappella concertato and stretto therein, restoring intonation back up almost a quarter-tone to where it belonged. Instability of Met tenors and at times of Met chorus overall was practically as disturbing as usual; this could only be fairly referred to as an internal problem.

Excessive clipping of part of the storm interlude toward the end of the Prologue was however mostly indiscretion on Muti’s part; towards what, it was hard to tell – except for pedantic accenting of major choral announcements moments later also evident. Much compartmentalization of rehearsal time that has taken place at the Met as of late is also likely a culprit. If however he did not secure optimum tone from his choral forces, Muti showed particular insistence on tight rhythmic accuracy and point from them, such that was very clear and very welcome. Muti managed to make closing passages of Attila cohere very well, with fine cumulative sense to them well anticipated and delivered.

Most of all, this Attila lacked voices – juice that must flow from such quintessential for really practically any Verdi - Otello and Falstaff only being partial exceptions.