NET on NPR (also in HD): Heavily pedantic revival of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor. Natalie Dessay. Patrick Summers. 19.03.11

Mary Zimmerman’s production of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor opened three years ago – after two previous productions of this at the Met, especially first one of which had to (quickly) get scrapped. This is arguably Zimmerman’s most successful production of three thus far at the Met - all of bel canto repertoire. James Levine was to conduct the 2008 broadcast, but due to health issues, cancelled, being replaced by John Colaneri. Natalie Dessay played Lucia. The production first got aired for Met in HD, starring Anna Netrebio, conducted better by Marco Armiliato, though hardly less conventionally.

With general period costumes and backdrop (with minimal updating?), Zimmerman employed a feminist meta-textual approach to Lucia, some of which with Netrebko, singing better than Dessay, faded into the scenery. Dessay took her cue on how to interpret Lucia in 2008 with emphasis more on acting than (should be) the norm – in context of how histrionics got influenced Until settling down for the Mad Scene – how ironically this reads – bordering on comical histrionics became partial culprit for precarious vocalism then. Ironically, it was not for Dessay all she could emotionally invest into Lucia, but with state of alienation, detachment to portray to the hilt – putting aside special affection for any man, even Edgardo. Some of Walter Scott, Donzietti’s story hinges on there being some connection – let us hope.

Natalie Dessay’s voice today, less stable between registers to take on such high-lying flights, alone caused her problems this time. Prudently, she decided this year on starting out, as she explained in interview, taking more musical approach, actually trusting the music, God forbid, than during previous run of this and than also of La Sonnambula. Strongly, supportively partnered on stage by Theodora Hanslowe (Alisa), Dessay attended to line for recitative and to open ‘Regnava’ better than before. With employing more tone toward achieving better sostenuto, Dessay filled out Lucia’s lines self-consciously, while encountering tension around the break. Reach into high register, during conscientiously sung cabaletta, became tentative, especially negotiating runs therein. Through duet with the amply supportive, emotionally engaged Josef Calleja, Dessay, after tentative phrasing from both, coasted well free of rigid beating time beneath to fully shape her lines and combine effort very well with his.

Starting Act Two, Dessay, attempting to darkly achieve forza needed, settled for more back, occluded placement for ‘Il pallor funesto’ making obvious a real blandness of tone and of diction to color it (Complaints over holidays about tenor Yonghoon Lee’s dry Italian for Don Carlo seem completely churlish now). After telling moment through expressive recitative, Dessay struggled to keep line together for ‘Soffrivo nel pianot’, for scooping her way in, then making increasingly heavy weather of register shifts through remainder of scene with Enrico.

The ‘Mad Scene’ became as much willed as sung. After expressively starting recitative, Dessay after unsupported high G, turned glib, detached, perhaps anticipating having to emit nonsensical laugh right before scooped into ‘Ardon gl’incensi.” Remindful of common verismo effects earlier - with Lucia imagining it sounded like moments earlier Edgardo entering the room, the thick, quavery tone, sour on low notes, became unattractive. Agility on runs adopted a quasi-improv worked quality. One had to gasp slightly at Dessay bravely taking on her cadenza unaccompanied – though with dull intonation, but managing to keep idea of pitch steady. Agility continued mostly unencumbered into Part 2 of the Mad Scene, except for things continuing to veer precariously toward sounding like Recital One for Cathy gig with handful of lunged at notes, to go with choppy accompaniment underneath, then several changes of placement on one climactic high B-Flat (nearly) – to then shy completely away from highly expressive half step above to instead without moment’s further hesitation drop a major seventh to C-Flat below.

One can hardly doubt Dessay’s dramatic abilities toward winning empathy with Lucia’s plight; how this combined with unsteady singing, however one either takes on faith or does not. No doubt, there are still roles still well suited for no doubt this genuinely gifted, still often charming artist, even while Lucia may no longer really be fully within reach.

Josef Calleja provided the sweet toned, ardent, ever attentive, prudently sung Edgardo. In context of much confusing going on musically, he conveyed well Edgardo’s despondency at his fate, genuine ardor for Lucia during first scene on stage. Curiously, he attempted putting up as little resistance as possible, somehow without missing dramatic intent of Edgardo’s defiance of Lucia, concerning freshly signed contract. He then provided good ring, swagger to scene with Enrico at Wolf’s Crag, starting out, but accompanied by unyielding beat from the pit, all went, dry-toned, unvaryingly flat-line together with Ludovic Tezier for cabaletta to their extended duet. Adding in more vibrato first within natural means, Calleja began the tomb scene with fine sostenuto, expressive regret, For slow cabaletta however, Calleja’s tone became more distraught, vibrato-laden to broader effect. While being as genuinely stylish an effort as anybody here could muster, definition as to Edgardo’s goals and eventual fate got mildly compromised – for interpretation providing just little more than half of what’s at stake.

Ludovic Tezier, with voice perhaps one cut below power required to sing a truly menacing Enrico, provided good snarl and darkened tone for the part. With emphasis on projecting much, line slightly broke up for especially opening lines to ‘Cruda, funesta’, cabaletta to which found him more prudent. His slightly nasal sound helped compromise conveying firm fortitude to Lucia in their extended scene together. In scene with Arturo, anticipating Lucia’s arrival with light snarl Enrico’s hypocrisy carried well, and as bedrock together with the Raimondo of Kwangchul Youn, stayed very well in character and provided good support, better than did man on podium for lyric voices floating above. Similar to Calleja, he started off the Wolf Crag’s scene incisively, to then later match Calleja in dryness of tone, delivery thereof for the rest of it.

Kwangchul Youn best supplied gravitas to this enterprise – hypocrisy tainted though Raimondo may be. Hint of making more nuance, insinuation out of ‘’Cedi, Cedi’ (duet) with Lucia somehow seeped through, with knowledge evident of how to otherwise eloquently shape his lines. He sounded perhaps as undercut as anybody in this cast by an unyielding beat from the pit. Even with a little gravel in the tone - sound Youn also has to plumb fine depths - he provided Raimondo’s Act Three racconta with excellently varied narrative sense, conveying use of rich experience he has accumulated away from bel canto, and providing the best legato and assurance of how to phrase Donzietti of anybody here, cheerfully able to overlook much insistence on beating time underneath.

Mathew Plenk was the bright toned confident Arturo, fearlessly tackling his arioso, what should not be enormous feat for second tier tenors - nowadays often just that. Philip Webb, after getting slightly covered up by ensemble starting Act One, aptly supplied a malevolently conniving Normanno.

On the podium was Patrick Summers. He conducted Lucia in Houston in 2003 - cast led by Laura Claycomb and Vinson Cole - likely better than he conducted this go-around. He spoke in interview of approaching Lucia more as influenced by what had preceded it, such as Gluck he conducted weeks earlier, than as how it might anticipate Verdi. Working with the Met orchestra, one however had trouble hearing what he might have meant. Numerous rhythms got clipped, maintenance of tempo was strict. This was fully modern playing – fully assured of itself - often projecting better than some of the singing.

Most insipid was the special pointing, underlining of orchestral interjections during recitative passages; several choral interludes, by comparison, plodded along monotonously. Rushed endings to especially cabalettas, pushing relentlessly past highly expressive broken appoggiatura during ‘Verranno a te’ too for instance, proved much insistence, but also inattention to supporting singers for naturally sculpting, sustaining their lines, for sake of however ‘correct’ eschewal of rubato. For any bel canto context, not to mention specialist, such is indeed really entirely wrong. Singers seemed compelled to follow Summers here, and seldom the other way around. It became hard to tell whether Summers, though intermittently, allowed his singers to at times freely take command or if they were breaking free on their own toward achieving reasonable semblance of legato.

Kwangchul Youn again most of all explicitly insinuated, then included necessary rubato to shape his lines, to supply for instance his Act Three narration much feeling, insight. Nuptials introducing chorus got marked with forced accenting, then for Summers to streamline most of the rest of his way through what follows, smoothing over important dramatic accents. Dessay and especially Calleja prudently kept their voices light, over much push and shove, to ward off damage thereof.

Somehow, in attempting to break free of Romantic tradition, Summers matched what this production - conceits thereof ubiquitous - attempted to say. Sticking to being a diva-accommodating maestro for a bel canto piece can make for a bland, faceless affair out of such, both dramatically and musically. Summers’s frequent over-insistence though came across pedantic, with playing louder than marked and insensitive ear for harmonic change in the accompaniment - its intended expressive effect toward singers being still able to flexibly shape their lines and avoid strain undercut. Not only were some rhythms wrong, but overall this music’s profile, character missing as well. One could remember at end of the day that Patrick Summers had conducted this, but while asking why, concerning what should come across. This was hardly a Lucia missing shape more than during its first run three years ago, but even with its dogged insistence, ironically seldom providing anything more.

HGO: Puccini Madama Butterfly: Sterling vocal acting by Martinez and Calleja engulfed in elephantosis of new Michael Grandage production - 02.11.10

Eager anticipation had to have greeted a new production, initially pleasing to the eye, of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly – marking important role debut by Ana Maria Martinez and HGO debut of celebrated Maltese tenor Josef Calleja. One then waited however for much of this production to come to some semblance of life, but all in vain.

Cio-Cio-San is probably the most dramatic assignment Ana Maria Martinez has assumed here thus far. If one may have detected some shallowness of tonal depth or focus, Martinez made up for any such lapse by delegating her resources prudently and making much detailed expressive shape of most of the text to first especially reveal a certain apprehension Cio-Cio-San perhaps only feels subconsciously early on. Martinez avoided understating completely away the youth of Cio-Cio-San in the earliest scenes of the opera, but also revealed, should early on Cio-Cio-San have any clue as how to realistically assess what is at hand, a certain feigning of inculcating in full what her new situation might be.

Martinez pointed all color and nuance to making full sense of the text, including her well learned deference to Pinkerton, distancing of her past and expression of strained comprehension of what it has meant to visit the Christian mission for a first time. Puccini has indicated harmonically the mysterious sensation that Cio-Cio-San feels – then for line to open out as it does that Martinez caressed freely, suavely. Martinez’s measured feeling and fraught tone for Cio-Cio-San’s sudden weighing out of options at crux of the scene with Sharpless, followed by protest of equally reckoned vulnerability was very affecting. Cio-Cio-San’s overwhelmed wonder and quick assumption of pride at spotting return of the Lincoln was equally so – ironically preparing for Martinez’s quite fully making her own the desperate and very sad final scene to this tragedy. Legato line was always suave, charm, and blend with a basically dependable comprimario level Suzuki from Lucy Schaufer for their duet toward end of Act Two with the cherry blossoms all made itself well felt. Martinez sang ‘Un bel di’ with intimately, modestly shaped line and fine dovetailed expressivity, then febrile ardor for its affirmative closing lines.

Josef Calleja, looking consistently slightly stiff on the Wortham stage, confidently sang B.F. Pinkerton with ringing ardor and some implied haughtiness, both qualities showing what makes the young lieutenant click. Attempt at absorbing, so much all Japanese in his midst looked rightly uncomprehending, deep down, glib – at some strain at disguising this being so. Through fine vocal acting, much more than anything else, a gnawing doubt rightfully developed, mixed in with Puccini’s subtleties, of – without my letting Pinkerton off– with what gap in ability to communicate effectively between the newly betrothed couple One had to be provoked by first moment Calleja started to sing on stage, as to how it ever could have been possible for a more beautiful tone out of a tenor to have been be heard from stage at the Wortham. One might have to go back a little ways.

Strongest among supporting cast were Rodell Rosel as cleanly sung, straightforwardly conniving marriage broker Goro, resolute Commisioner of Tommy George. and most of all the age wise, prudent Sharpless of Levi Hernandez, with slightly dry but ample vocal resources to sing this well. Robert Pomakov, as the Bonze, looked and sounded mildly threatened by the situation, tremulously so – more than he sounded like any menace as a Bonze.. Boris Dyakov appeared deftly as the lovesick, obsequious Yamadori, to lightly playful, scornful Cio-Cio-San of Martinez.. Rachel Sorensen looked planted onto the vast stage as perhaps statue of Pinkerton’s new wife - all that was memorable about her appearing on stage, Martinez, the distraught Cio-Cio-San vulnerably, consolably with warm tone addressed her as who must be the happiest woman alive – if only one cold have made Kate Pinkerton appear at all alive. Secondarily, she looked to be in plain view a good several pages before Cio-Cio-San should know of her presence. Perhaps this Kate Pinkerton got imported from the Robert Wilson production.

If only after describing especially the two near-definitive leads to have graced the Wortham for this, there were any more good news about this production of Puccini’s ‘Japanese tragedy’, except that for the most part there was not. A widely curvy walkway draped over broadly spread out ascending steps, against fine scenic backdrop – all as though we should perhaps be sitting in awe of a multiple hundreds of times blown up postcard. Lighting (Neil Austin) shifted for different hues both for the curvy walkway, stylized representation of the hill up to the house it was, and the backdrop. Otherwise, the highly diffuse, even fluorescent appearing lighting was harsh, looked college glee club amateurish. Shift of stage light at end of prelude to Act Three from gray dawn to high noon occurred in only a matter of several seconds.

On a very expansively laid out stage, the house for Cio-Cio-San was relegated to being a couple of screens to far left front of the stage. Elephantosis at achieving grandeur with stage picture overall was far more the priority here than the house, or mere vague intimation thereof, which Michael Grandage announced in the program notes, is just there to serve its purpose and then - lest anything too specifically indigenous might become the least bit overbearing - to get out of the way. Apparently there were more important considerations to be reckoned – but without Grandage making it clear what they might be. The decoration of modest choreographic steps from especially bridesmaid entourage and relatives and deft bowing to each other was all fine and well. In order to make a little borrowed metaphor of the situation, to admire that is practically in effect to be fawning over dormers and lintels left out on ground visibly close to the sidewalk – in front of a fine edifice that has just recently crumbled to the ground.

Liner notes making exposed just about all the modus operandi behind this Madama Butterfly, it is surprising that any life emerged out of this onstage at all. What might have inspired especially Martinez and Calleja to give of nearly their best and achieve the good vocal acting that they did? Martinez generously offered more than just that. It might have meant risk of losing some reckoned sight of them altogether. Martinez and the boy then get put on a cupola attached to a large rotating wheel containing much of the set - then making creaking noises during Humming Chorus and/or prelude to Act Three.

What silences occur in Puccini’s score got halfway smoothed over first by Patrick Summers, then by all the monolithic to quasi-phallic vastness of scale. Butterfly’s final scene, allowing for more elaborate acting by Martinez, had her suicide take the hit of happening over along ascending walkway stage right, for Pinkerton to respond in full view of the dying woman by running in, sliding to his knees down several steps halfway toward her, as though to gesture some respect. Did Grandage want to console us that Pinkerton, on naturalistic terms, is innocent for what has happened? If so, then clumsily the entire notion fell flat. Moreover, as opposed to what the program notes might have had one believe, the chord Puccini, hurls out, responding to cries from Pinkerton, provides the conclusion absolutely no sense of resolution. It is unique this way.

Spreading out of confetti over the walkway also looked silly. Things going on about the house, looked so minimal, as said above, as to be practically insignificant. Other than what ritual of making polite gestures does for Grandage what is still more essential to the social culture and system of Japan, other than to give it some nice window dressing, got missed. For that matter, the whole drama, rationale for it, looked almost completely pointless – to point for one to cry out for return here of the consulate office design for set Francesca Zambello installed here for Butterfly two previous times.

One patron told me of his preferring the new production over the Ken Russell that visited here in 1985, that just for sensitivity to the music’s demands, was, conducted by Lawrence Foster, orgy of excitement compared with this. Oh, the spreading out of corn flakes around the house in place of cherry blossoms toward end of Act Two was a bit vulgar; at least the geisha’s house was front and center throughout – as opposed to, hypothetically, being compartmentalized into small corner box. On top among two stories - traditional action carried out below - you had early on several geishas moving one sleeping client across over to bed not in use to free up accommodations for next client.

Harmonizing well with the utterly, seemingly codified blandness of this Butterfly was the equally glib conducting of Patrick Summers. The asperity of Puccini’s scoring, essential part of its color scheme even while getting smoothed away to being halfway insignificant, became here altogether insignificant. Summers clipped his way in flaccid manner through the opening fugato. Though accompanying singers reasonably well for handful of bigger set pieces, such a streamlined approach demeaned Puccini’s score to little more than an accompanying soundtrack to the action; things, though slightly late in the day, emerged better full out during final scene. Humming Chorus was deftly pointed, for sure, but opening prelude to Act Three ultimately sounded more streamlined than evocative. The Bonze scene, halfway well provided for onstage, got smoothed out from the pit through dovetailing, gilding it slightly much toward end of its brief life, as got halfway smoothed out stinging accents for confrontation Goro provokes during Act Two.

Most annoying - in context of what got presented as in essence a two-act Madama Butterfly - no break after Act Two started - was inclusion of ‘Addio, fiorito asil.’ Not to be content with just including it, Summers gilded to death the accompaniment, as though Calleja might need any props – and with house to which he bids farewell hardly visible anyway. Moreover at heart of the matter the inclusion of this melodious number in a two-act Butterfly is musically, psychologically, philologically careless and incorrect.

It was also patronizing to the history of the company, that when Houston Grand Opera did present the 1904 version in 1985 – of course in two acts, the ‘Addio, fiorito asil’ got dropped (as could have been sung by nearly as superb Richard Leech). In its place got reinstated a couple of places – line or two to make Pinkerton seem more obvious the cad than the 1906 version without these lines does. Most affecting of all were several lines of plain arioso by Cio-Cio-San right before child enters for ‘Tu, tu picciolo Iddio.’ Moreover, Puccini’s very individual through-composed vastness of scale had on that occasion its full, unencumbered say.

At the end of the day, I found it extra patronizing to treat a drama, Latinized enough as it is, and though little of its source authentically Japanese, the way it got treated here - as so much window-dressing. Such seems so backward within involving the Far East and important enough social themes, including lack of ability for West and East to come to grips with each other with people over there mostly suffering the brunt during time the action of this takes place. The entire thing looked so uninspired as to have possibly been a traveling road show for this opera. Should Michael Grandage be so cowed by facing a piece of work that is more elaborate or involved, musically, aesthetically, psychologically than what has been his norm thus far, then perhaps he has extended his reach too far.

Presenting Madama Butterfly in such a stylized perspective did not accomplish anything. It is seldom everything an evening at the Wortham has looked so disengaged – all as though there being a corporatist overweening Nurse Ratched to oversee proceedings to prevent unduly disturbing the properly seated inmates.

BBC Proms 2010: Proms 1 and 3. BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Jiri Belohlavek. Prom 3: Royal Opera. Antonio Pappano.

Prom 3. Verdi: Simon Boccanegra (semi-staged from Moshinsky production). Royal Opera House Orchestra and Chorus. Antonio Pappano. Marina Poplavskaya, Placido Domingo, Josef Calleja, Ferruccio Furlanetto, Jonathan Summers, Lukas Jakobski. Royal Albert Hall.
July 18, 2010.

It has become a given that, even a year ahead of time, Placido Domingo’s taking on the part of Simon Boccanegra is a major accomplishment, wherever it may occur. So far, that has meant New York, Berlin, Milan, and now London. All Domingo should have to do is for him to affix himself to a pose for the cameras of tragic poise or grandeur, to circulate hither and yond, and then automatically, we have a great interpretation of the Doge. Unfortunately, most of the interpretation of the Doge happens vocally, not so much otherwise. Here, at the Royal Albert Hall, the right voice for the Doge just simply was not there. In fact, the closest from this cast to having it was the Paolo Albiani, at age 61, of Jonathan Summers.

Domingo felt impetus slightly less here than at the Met five months previous to draw as vigorously upon what lingering resources of darker tone he may possess; even so, we are still hearing much more a low tenor instead of baritone. Most deferential on the podium of anybody, Antonio Pappano was a close ally of Domingo in even misguidedly playing best advocate possible for Domingo – for Domingo being able to hold out vocally to the end. Unfortunately, he helped make himself weak advocate for both the part and entire work at hand. This being middle period to i.e. with the Council Chamber Scene, fully mature Verdi, it is Pappano’s business with a score like this, to lead. In nowhere close to consistent fashion did he but very seldom do so.

Attractive among this cast were Josef Calleja (Gabriele Adorno) and Marina Poplavskaya (Amelia). Calleja sounded immediately the ardent Romantic hero, with clarion passion he gave his first off-stage lines – albeit with swallowed phrase endings, something he ceased allowing once on stage with Poplavskaya. Crest of his lines in his duet with Fiesco came across effortful, but he sustained legato well and also sounded sufficiently stern for sense of something ominous afoot. He also affected good stance of heroism for standing up to Doge in the council chamber – amidst confusing scenario to have developed there. Opening agitated lines for Gabriele in Act Two put Calleja under some strain again, but he then achieved finely sculpted line with attractive tone, plentiful musical sensitivity for the longer, more florid, quasi-Schubertian ‘Cielo, pietoso’ portion of ‘Sento, avvampar.’

Following indefinitely shaped, phlegmatic introduction to Act One, Poplavskaya sang ‘Come, quest’ora’ with dark, but warm mezzo-ish color, voice placed back. Her top though was freely achieved; she joined Calleja in presenting very convincingly two young people in love, and as Amelia individually presented a character to have been quite a variety of hardship and travail. Once Domingo was out on stage for recognition scene to get underway, some of Poplavskaya’s best efforts here got undercut by flaccid, retiring command from the pit. Bumped up pace for loud orchestral cadence to Amelia’s revulsion at the Doge’s mention of Paolo undercut the firm attack Poplavskaya gave Amelia’s strong exclamation right before. Oboe line to begin Amelia’s private narration to the Doge – ‘Orfanella il tetto umile’ – was too retiring by half; it took Poplavskaya’s all to give it any real shape at all. Accenting beneath never overcame being flaccid; her passionately conceived ‘Mi bacio’ refrain found her having to watch Pappano instead of vice versa – unbecoming irony that it was.

The transition to gentle, but robust cabaletta of the great duet - Domingo choppily reading off notes and text right before - got flaccidly, carefully paced - with silly forceful push forward where Verdi has marked gradual stringendo. Pappano made it sound instead like postlude or refrain to Italian popular song. Poplavskaya continued having to watch both Pappano and Domingo carefully through the great cabaletta, ‘Figlia la tal nome’, all taken breezy – not for so fast a tempo per se, as being taken so weightlessly. It sounded more redolent of what got composed in Act One of Verdi’s Luisa Miller instead of in its Third Act for Luisa and her father.

Except for excessive verismo pointing of Amelia’s narrative in the Council Chamber Scene – practically by end to makie Sprechstimme out of it – and a few moments of cloudy intonation, Poplavskaya achieved strongly even line between smoky colored midrange and low notes and easily produced top the rest of the way. Her Elisabetta at Royal Opera Don Carlo earlier this season hardly prepared one for how well she succeeded here.

Baritones in singing the opening Prologue for part of Simon, affect being the high baritone, even in head voice quasi-tenorial in some of their nuance, placement, etc. They are obviously still baritones. Domingo especially affected the same thing at the Met this past spring, but from perspective of still being a tenor, a low one now, sounded more tentative at it. Chilean tenor Ramon Vinay, whose timbre was somewhat baritonal from the get-go, still darker later – had voice to halfway successfully make something of Iago and Telramund – but a different voice than Domingo has ever possessed.

Sustained notes for Boccanegra took on here feeling of insecurity to mild tremolo. More remarkable here was the utter lack of contrast between widely varied levels of communication that Verdi and Boito have crafted so brilliantly into the part. Lines such as ‘Ecco i plebi’ and Fratricidi’ during the Council Chamber scene sounded preoccupato (worried) and tired, respectively, where there is forceful irony, sense of outrage called for. Instead of having chill run down one’s spine at ‘Paolo!’– coming after vaguely negotiated ‘Plebi! Patrizii! Popolo!’ - Domingo precariously reached from below for baritonal top C and down on a C one octave below. It was so curious that at end of Act One, with so little Domingo had left to do that Pappano had to mercilessly clip so much of a then waltzy ‘Tu al cospetto’ through ‘Sii maledetto’ – thoroughly making trivial final choral outcry in reaction to the curse. What, after all, was sacred here - Placido Domingo, his legacy, or Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra? Martin Bernheimer said of Domingo last spring in (British) Opera (April) that his sound remains stubbornly tenorial, inappropriately slender – Domingo courting tedium to continue coursomg his way through this The supposedly always evergreen Placido Domingo, now taking on Rigoletto, sounded even more slender here.

Domingo affected well his entrance lines for the Doge in the final two scenes of this with fine sense of gravitas; what he provided was not quite completely void of insight. Lines of conversation between Doge and Gabriele however had one easily confuse one for the other, to practically be embarrassing. At the Met, one had in later scenes Marcello Giordani with more squeal than squillo as Gabriele and Domingo in better voice.

Ferruccio Furlanetto started of colloquy with the sinister and vocally ample Paolo of Jonathan Summers well, then some semblance of legato for refrain to ‘Il lacerate spirito.’, but little else as Fiesco. Never have I before heard duet for tenor and bass-baritone in the final scene of this opera; more noticeable than in the Prologue, that is what occurred here. Furlanetto’s voice, pressed by engagement in so much pouting, contrived histrionics, was all patchwork for this assignment. What nobility, mystery Fiesco should convey got completely lost, and even Sprechstimme became so extensive in Act Three – before six minutes prior to opera ending, it made me think on behalf of the unsuspecting it might seem that Verdi had written Fiesco a mad scene. For someone who remembers seeing Cesare Siepi, rock-solid at sixty-one - with sense of gravitas extending out miles behind the Jones Hall stage, sing Fiesco here – opposite an inexperienced and unsteady Leo Nucci as the Doge – it is to deny any such memory of being relevant at all to have taken Furlanetto seriously at this.

The pouting I surmise Furlanetto has learned from the Hytner co-interpretation that Furlanetto next foists upon us at the Met. It must go, as what use it slightly may have been for him before is completely gone now. ‘No! la figlia del Grimaldi’ got emitted all choppy, without meaningful semblance of legato or weight, not to even try reckoning what appropriate weight for it might be like. This is the weakest Furlanetto has sounded yet – fine artist he has been before for Muti, Levine, and Barenboim, numerous others. Lukas Jakobski, the Pietro, had as much voice for Pietro as either Furlanetto or Domingo on their parts, and probably more, as did Jonathan Summers as Paolo, Act Two opening scene for which Pappano at last found some meaningful shape to anything he could sustain for more than a few measures. Several exclamations from Summers were so forceful, one wondered how Paolo got passed up as candidate for Doge. It took no hectoring or grand-standing for Summers to accomplish it. Nobody in either the Met cast or this one was more in character than him. One regretted hearing, seeing him taken away at the start of Act Three.

Antonio Pappano numerous times has proven himself adept at Verdi; while in hyper-obsequious mode, there hardly could be anyone worse at it. With all focus out of whack compared with where it should be, Royal Opera orchestral forces, with most of all the strings often sounding thin and ragged, also sounded out of focus. The light bump and grind Pappano gave some of the agitato for chorus during the Council Chamber scene was totally mal-apropos. There was constantly the faux-sensitive consideration, caution out of supposed deference to his singers that denied them so frequently any means of real support. Brief orchestral interludes, exclamations in which he decided to infuse some life ran risk of sounding off-kilter and often did.

Even the brief exchange involving Paolo right before the Council Chamber scene, lasting barely a minute, took on a weight, practically a preponderance in comparison with what came before and after, by just conducting it straightforwardly. All shape, overall perspective to make reach through much of the entirety of Verdi’s score to give it the nobility, variety of even often somber color got blended, eviscerated away to making much of its entirety register as tepid, shallow instead of how it should be.

For managing optimum effect of getting placement, phrasing, overall vocal production right, the other singers in the cast need what solidity, weight the Doge and Fiesco (Furlanetto lacking it even in the Council Chamber scene) and orchestral parts provide. It clearly, for those several who did get things mostly right, was often go-it-alone here. As for the majesty, somber weight, variety of tinta in regards to atmosphere of the sea constantly on the horizon, Prommers attending this also got left mostly high and dry as well. The overall blandness, lifelessness of the Moshinsky production could not have alone done so much damage. This, apart from several fine solo contributions, proved an evening at the Proms and for reputation of the Royal Opera, notably sub-par.

Prom 1. BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Jiri Belohlavek. Madi Byers, Twyla Robinson, Malin Christensson, Stephanie Blythe, Kelly O’Connor, Stefan Vinke, Hanno Muller-Brachmann, Tomasz Koleczny. St. Paul’s, Westminster, Crouch End and Sydney Choristers. Royal Albert Hall. July 16, 2010.

In context of this Boccanegra, any calling on Jiri Belohlavek for lack of heft in approaching the Mahler Eighth Symphony two nights before was mere whining.
This is the most impossible Mahler symphony, upon performance of which to write in authoritatively. There are many places where voices, things get covered up, that to insist upon such heft - for which Mahler writes in indeed some (for today’s standards of vocalism) awkward doubling of solo voices, is to lose so much in return. From Belohlavek, compared to, most sophisticated at it, a Gielen or Boulez, there was here some loss of resonance to some of the subtle shifting harmonic changes through the inner voices, while taking such a lean approach. At such a place as the hushed choral entry of ‘Infirma nostri corporis,’ Belohlavek sensitively provided mystery to infuse its sepulchrally compelled harmonies. Beyond that, it is probably whenever I have run across it, one of the most listenable recordings of the piece (as Mahler 8 does not really ever fit well a recording, but only good concert, acoustical space instead) being Kubelik, who in part, tradition from which he came could have set example for what here opened the 2010 Proms.

The muscular, lean, rhythmically forthright opening to ‘Veni, Creator Spiritus’ set the tone right for what was indeed here a very festive occasion, with 630 musicians on the Royal Albert Hall stage. Belohlavek wisely avoided making bathos out of ‘Imple superna gratia’, with its turn of phrase to ideally remind one of pop song derivations of Chopin’s Fantasie Impomptu so many times. How many times have I heard ‘I am always chasing rainbows’ at this spot – i.e. how much I often dread anticipating arrival of this passage . However, a lingering manner over more lyrical, slower pages of especially Part One here threatened to make several sections of Part One appear too episodic. The big ‘Accende, accende’ segue to double fugue entered strongly, abruptly, but also with compelling urge to drive it forward through lean, moderately swift march with ‘Hostem, repellas longuis’ - moment and perhaps similar as to how it got played here, is said to have impressed Stravinsky very much. One could though still feel here a little want or lack of vehemence underneath through this and imminent double fugue as well.

The highly animated, even also physical impact of hearing this music made one forget or put aside any feeling that Belohlavek’s tempo relationships may have felt episodic; effect of such complacency this way did eventually make itself felt during the recapitulation (the opening to which needed more support from underneath) and coda to the first part here, yet little to dampen spirits of what made quite a start to performing the Eighth complete. There was also just some accelerando toward the end in approaching final affirmation at the end, that in not sounding like having arisen organically from preceding material, sounded slightly on verge of not so much hysteria as of just having come somewhat loose from the rest.

The pointillism with which Belohlavek infused the craggy edges of extended introduction to Part 2 was such toward helping mark well depths to be plumbed below – and fine principal oboe to help connect febrile line through it - with of course a gradually ascending sense to all that would follow it. With fine stress he supported well his first two soloists, giving voice to contrasting ecstatic ardor and emotional asceticism here. Much Wunderhorn frolic caroled through scherzo to follow thereafter, with most if not quite all sense of pervasive gloom having lifted by this point – and without turning it insipid (such as threatens to happen with Abbado on his live recording several times). Pointing of lines in high winds and small contingent of strings, percussion – and with ‘Von der Jugend’ turn in phrase apparent - was all airy and piquant here – and in color as informed by all that has preceded such in this long movement. The Jeden Rosen’ chorus in women and children had good freshness to it – momentary ensemble lapse during which was fully compensated by supple and very well voiced engagement of deep color in making the harmonic changes that occur here. All wafted with fine calibrated ease through transition into long slower final portion of Part 2 through majestic reckoning of the Chorus Mysticus altogether to its climactic conclusion – sufficient weight provided all underneath.

Most noteworthy among soloists here were Stephanie Blythe and relatively new tenor Stefan Vinke – already seen at some houses in Germany to critical acclaim as Lohengrin and Siegmund – and here replacing Nikolas Schukoff on short notice. Blythe contrasted, with fine cavernous sonority at her disposal, sang with consoling even line and simple tonal warmth her ‘firmans virtute’ and lumens accende’ off more stern accents to help sustain line very well through one or two lingering tempos Belohlavek provided She made something morally repudiating (or in Sarah Palin lingo, refudiating) sounding of the Muler Samaritana, verging on making shrewish nun out of the part, but altogether with compelling authority. Blythe, most of anybody, provided firmly solid bedrock to solo trio, quartet, and full ensemble passages throughout. Stefan Vinke, though starting tense during Part 2 as Doctor Marianus, sang all his exposed writing in Part One with most lyrical ease and melos, and then as Marianus quickly got all placed right to get off a few heroic, ringing high notes and fully informed passionate ardor for calls of ‘Jungfrau.’ Whenever Belohlavek might let pace relax too much, especially during Part One, Vinke, like Blythe, was someone to whom one’s ear would forthwith feel compelled.

Hanno Muller-Brachmann in fine voice fervently pointed his text as the Pater Ecsaticus, but without such exaggeration of doing so to put personal stamp on his two minutes in the limelight, as Fischer-Dieskau did for Kubelik on disc, example after which many baritones partly take in singing this. Less compelling was Tomasz Koneczny, musicality of this young bass-baritone not in question, but lean sonority not quite entirely right for his solo of ‘Infirma, nostril corporis’ or for the Pater Profondis during Part 2. Among the women, Madi Byers had the brighter, more penetrating top than Twyla Robinson, with reach-from-behind approach to phrasing from the latter. Even with weight Byers (appearing on the Royal Albert stage as case of the frizzies) provided midrange and below, she had her own support issues, as did Robinson. More lyric mezzo Kelly O’Connor made some stretch of engaging register shifts with as Muler Aegyptica. It was easy for all three voices to get covered up by so much else going on – except for when Byers put forth brightly above staff or accompaniment remained light.

Belohlavek, with fine calibration of all his forces through very much of this Mahler Eighth brought clear, focused sense of being, just like Mahler, a man of the theater to this engagement. Such clearly carried the day with very well prepared choral forces and fine orchestral contribution to make this Mahler Eighth, if not a profoundly achieved opener certainly a very brightly limned, festive one - excellent sense of occasion pervasive all about.