A galavanting about Puccini's Tosca - 10.10.2009 - Met in HD (on PBS)

This was about the worst joke of a staging of Puccini’s Tosca I have yet run across, and as one with real appreciation for productions by Nuria Espert, Nikolaus Lehnhoff, Luca Ronconi, next to which the new Luc Bondy production hardly raises a whimper thus far.

One incongruity followed another throughout, and for butt-ugly sets, Act One won hands down for the abstract non-representation of the St. Andrea della Valle church. The Palazzo Farnese seemed comfortably loungey, but as perhaps copied from Jonathan Miller’s production from Florence, huge maps covering the entire walls. There was little sense of where Cavaradossi might have been led to be interrogated. The last act in its abstraction of the top of Castel Sant’Angelo was the one set by Richard Peduzzi that just about entirely worked.

Angelotti (David Pittsinger) was best among the supporting cast vocally, but too casually cut a heroic figure as the rebel. Upon entering down a rope, it looked as though he just as easily could have reported in from the local gym. Moments he had with Cavaradossi not far into this proved more plausible, but still confused in how to provide meaningful perception of this character. Paul Plishka (Sacristan) emerged even less well, given so many notes sounded so raw they barely spoke; his acting emerged as just utterly silly and banal. Pissy-toned Joel Sorenson (Spoletta) relied upon overworked cliché to represent menace, the Sciarrone (James Courtney) was just barely passable - or noticeable, and Keith Miller (Jailer) had ample voice - but apparently he also had the hots for both his soldiers and for a bloodied up Cavaradossi.

Marcello Alvarez (Cavaradossi), acting and even singing the part as almost cross between Ramon Vargas and Lucky Luciano (Pavarotti) was vocally pleasant, but represented what I have always found an odious characterization of the painter. Mario Cavaradossi's putting his life on the line for his ideals and his friend Angelotti completely went for naught. Whether Bondy, Alvarez, or Pavarotti know or knew that there is a heroic accent to the part of Mario Cavaradossi, let me remind them there indeed is. Capping a thoroughly insipid evening from Alvarez was his look of surprise that he had been shot at the end of the opera, and his tendency at once to smile and grimace. His lines in defying Scarpia, upon first entering the Palazzo Farnese or being dragged in there were pouted, wimpy in place of being defiant.

When I heard that there were three whores to jolly up or service Scarpia at the start of Act Two, I falsely surmised that all this action would only carry on through “Tosca e un buon falco” and lines leading up to “Ella verra." Instead, it carried on all the way through the aria. George Gagnidze gave one of the worst performances of Scarpia in recent memory. Those who know the performing legacy of Tosca know Giuseppe Taddei’s interpretation for Karajan in the early 1960’s - though still good, my least favorite of three principals on the old Vienna Decca recording. Must you have however a dandy of a Scarpia, with legs, stature, coiffure of dainty proportions but still able to incisively issue out orders for his henchmen to carry out the carnage he will have done, then for subtlety and getting the point across most effectively this way, Taddei is your man. He fortunately got to sing it under for once a dramatically fully engaged von Karajan.

Gagnidze and much earlier Raimondi until he shaped interpretation of his own, much better than the Karajan/Raimondi contrivance on DGG, are not. Lehnhoff took similar risk in how he had the Baron Scarpia costumed (in lizard like outfit), but thanks to the intelligence of producer, maestro, and Terfel, it still worked.

George Gagnidze certainly has the figure to make Scarpia a force to be reckoned with, but vocally it was hardly ever there at all. A good raft of notes got placed badly, awkwardly. He had a way of reaching for high notes by both crooning them and placing them far back, thus increasing tendency to oddly intimate a buzzing sound. He appeared very limited in what he could give in terms of line, effective color, or menace.

His death scene, with Mattila sprawled out on a nice sofa, was a variation on Nikolaus Lehnhoff's take on this. It was incisive and menacing from Malfitano vs. Bryn Terfel, here it looked, though somewhat realistic, like such a casual way of going about it, all matter-of-fact to point of being absurd. On realistic terms, for being able to effectively issue orders to anybody, this Scarpia was an unmitigated disaster – and who, though a nice guy continued playing the somewhat twisted boppo, boffo, buffoon, through intermission interview with Susan Graham.

The man of the hour here was Karita Mattila as Tosca, as seldom did anyone else in this cast seem to have any balls, in any way. At least, Mattila had her dress and other red silks, damask to protect - alongside just mildly more serious action taking place. Her deportment, in how this was staged, more than face Mattila was putting on, seemed over whether she would get her dress torn or hair mussed up - as fetished out the Scarpia also appeared - even in the bland gaze Gagnidze gave the hall from the get-go and her in Act One. Mattila looked considerably older than her forty-nine years in how she was costumed - in black wig and wearing brown contact lenses. Her voice finally entirely came around to cooperating with what her deeply considered expressive, psychological, and dramatic interests were with her part - for a fine Third Act, slightly unexpectedly. Her expression,as Tosca, tended to be severe, and even in expecting relief to what has been a most terrible situation overnight, more serious than but very seldom that of the Cavaradossi. Cavaradossi, the way Alvarez played him, always looked easy to deceive. Mattila's descent down from high B-Flat to G toward end of Vissi d’arte below skidded off at the moviecast, same way it had two weeks earlier at opener under Levine.

Most worrying now is Karita Mattila’s tendency to press down on notes for about interval of a fifth below the passaggio and on notes surrounding it as well. Such now makes her ability to maintain legato tenuous, needless to say tense, with much threat of breaking up the line and cantabile infusing it. Even so, there were moments Mattila indeed brought to life, even against what had perhaps been Luc Bondy's original intent or bet on how things should go. Affecting were moments when Tosca bewails being prisoner for the evening to the royal celebrations, similar to my making myself prisoner to watching this dreadful performance of the opera this evening, and her pleas to Scarpia that she can not go on (“non posso piu”) with her lover having to endure the pain. Some air of vulnerability could still prevail - more effectively than from Eva Marton here in 1991, as approximate in pitch and uneven in focus as Marton so easily lapsed into being as well.

Sure there is toughness there, enough to kill Scarpia, but how then can we be moved by her plight if this is it? The scene of her leap from the parapet was silly, with byplay with Jailer up and almost enough to tumble the Jailer down the stairs. A double of hers made at the end a suspended leap into dead air, a stunt that looked so inconsequential, even cartoonish, to have deserved loud booing from across the hall.

For the atmospheric prelude to Act Three, under constantly flaccid leadership by John Colaneri, we had a session of not how to necessarily do target practice, but how to stage it with rifles so long as to more resemble pointed sticks – nudge, nudge, wink, wink. The Jailer looked up his men up and down very nicely, then physically separating Cavaradossi from Tosca when Cavaradossi must be led away as though to say ‘he’s mine.’ It just so happens to be too bad Keith Miller is not quite half the comedian John Cleese was in his heyday. Marcelo Alvarez then came on for ‘E lucevan’, entirely in love with his own voice and nuance for shaping it, with no more than just casual sense of any despondency about what might happen next.

It is nice that he shapes the lines to his part with much amore. As an aside, I prefer a character out of this to emerge, a reason for Cavaradossi to be part of the action. Equally limp and indecisive was Luc Bondy’s decision to make Scarpia into a total wuss, to be crying at Tosca’s feet, as was said of opening night, at her request for safe conduct to Civitavecchia, not to mention Scarpia’s brief sputtering back to life for “Avanti a lui ….” Perhaps he could have sputtered "Avanti a me" instead. Mattila’s collapsing back on a divan to fan herself and hyperventilate was oddly effective, but camera three seconds later following her backstage - with Mattila still looking worked up by what she had just done - even ruined that - handlers and Susan Graham all at the ready to fawn over her.

Peter, I mean Peter Gelb, give your audience please and your singers for once some friggin' space! Backstage interviews are fine, but please like lets say two minutes to enjoy a minute of curtain calls, catch our breaths, take in what we have just witnessed - or there may come a day not long from now that I will cease attending Met in HD altogether. Those artists who show up on your stage, perform, conduct your operas with integrity, direct them with integrity, will still get the respect and praise they deserve.

Why was it, Peter, that Luc Bondy, who has directed such fine productions as Salome and Don Carlos not committed to something with more integrity than what came on here? This is a production almost worth mothballing more than anything else – as much as the Lucia (Zambello) and Trovatore (Vick) that your predecessor, who, yes, made some mistakes, decried, but you can not with this – or one or two other fiasco’s so far you have given the Met.

The conducting tonight of John Colaneri, with no hint from anyone to step things up a bit, was not so much slow, though most certainly slow, but flaccid, weak on color. Color, atmosphere without shape does not really exist - most certainly in Puccini it does not) – He thoroughly failed to contribute anything toward dramatic impetus. Numerous entrances were not together. Levine on opening night waddled through, wallowed over textures excessively too - and missed markings of deciso almost entirely on accents (in brass especially) during the interrogation scene; though still inconclusive, there was still some sense of shape to how he conducted this. It was only incidentally during those few moments that Mattila would turn up the temperature on stage that anything emerged from this or from Colaneri, but only passively from him. Mattila next helps push this misguided attempt at Tosca on Bavarian State in Munich. The Met, under such musical leadership, especially at Met in HD, makes the company look provincial.

All the galvanting around with whores at start of Act Two proved perfect diminution of the character of Scarpia, but here as also underneath much of the way were much of the trappings of still a traditional, not controversial production of Puccini’s Tosca. We are familiar enough already with the characterization of Cavaradossi, very conventionally misguided as it is – from telecast on of Tosca conducted by James Conlon back in 1978 – equally well sung, equally pointless from tenor cast as the painter. Stormy trio at heart of Act Two looked with no trace of irony here perfectly stand-up-and-sing.

So, what if Mario Cavaradossi, as many have read, is mildly impressionable sexually? That is all fine and well - most ideally, very tastefully caught by Carlo Bergonzi, opposite Maria Callas, but Callas unlike Marton downtown, unlike Mattila too, remained the woman. This thing here was handled purely from the text, with all subtlety Bergonzi could issue forth – and thus there was still a character with whom we could fully sympathize - even as picked up from the recording studio. Callas is heard more spontaneously especially opposite Tito Gobbi live from Convent Garden the same year. Di Stefano went about Cavaradossi, opposite Callas, and Price most heroically, most affectingly so. So did quite well Placido Domingo (compromised by a little blandness, but still very well sung) and different, Mario Del Monaco, plus numerous others.

There is recently Richard Margison quite differently again, more controversially, riskily for sure than Alvarez, and even also Fabio Armiliato. If anything, the most controversial, or provocative production of Tosca I have seen yet, damagingly effective, is the Lehnhoff, starring Margison, from Amsterdam; it really did have ideas. This one either did not or got compromised by being put through committee at the Met.

All such galavanting proved was opera as just opportunity for a social occasion or party, where all the nice, obsequious things get said, even practically on cue - Susan Graham looking the bemused social matron in making much fuss. Regardless how wretchedly things were going. For sake of contrast – read an interview of Jon Vickers some time, even if you disagree with some of his ideological views. I certainly do not. For now, just let the charade carry on. There is competition out there from other forces in the global village in which we live; it can catch on, catch up before long.

Met 2009-10 opening broadcast: Puccini's Il Trittico - and perhaps other tales of being naughty to fabricate

For opening the new Met broadcast season, we got revisited the Jack O’Brien production of Trittico from near end of third season ago. Redolent of Zeffirelli’s legacy at the Met, this production accomplishes providing congenially ample, detailed backdrop to the action, while allowing each of the three stories in this to conventionally work out against it. Where this idea of producing Trittico fell short the most in 2007, it also did here, even if less so than before, with Il Tabarro. David Cangelosi (Il Tinca) incisively excited yet again minimal passion - just assumed to be enough on which to get by - from Salvatore Licitra (Luigi). Paul Plishka made his crusty vocal state apparent as Il Talpa and Stephanie Blythe just minimally more insightful her casual romp through La Frugola,

We all know that Licitra is not a Del Monaco in either weight or volume, but there is still something to be made of Luig, more than coasting through it. He even took his murderous altercation with Michele matter-of-fact. Luigi’s pent-up anger can still cut through an overall countenance of vulnerability. Licitra’s affable tone was pleasant, except for strained high notes, but it all related yet again close to nothing as Luigi.

Zeljko Lucic, fine recent Macbeth for Levine, was Michele.. His best assets were his dark tone, evenness of articulation and seriousness about assignment as stevedore boss. Except for slight strain in achieving a few high notes, Lucic was still confident in achieving the overall tessitura. What quickly became apparent too, in catching the introversion of a good Michele, was a constant emotional reserve that missed some change of mood and color (harmony) here and there, for instance in Michele’s attempt to draw some fresh warmth out of the Giorgetta right next to him. The end of his arioso “Resto vicino a me” emerged more as vocal achievement than anything else - his brief line of ‘squaldrina’ (‘whore”) so mulled over and laughter at the very end in revealing to Giorgetta her dead lover - somewhat a misplaced Karloff or Vincent Price applied irony - highly doubtful here. Not all was lost. Lucic stopped well short of making caricature of Michele, in delivering vocal eloquence, and some sense of inner frustration and anguish.

Patricia Racette, essaying all three soprano leads, came across most curious as Giorgetta. After Stratas and Scotto, she becomes the third to do so, all three at once, at the Met. Malfitano also did for Chicago some nearly ten years ago. Lower register for Giorgetta means the most that it does for any of the three leads. Racette gratefully found some reserves upon which to draw that way. Middle register came across grainy and hollow, but curiously enough with less pitch problems than afflicted her Cio-Cio San last season. Passaggio and higher were still unstable, even with. sympathy for Giorgetta’s frustration and plight still made clearly apparent. Similar to Paoletta Marrocu’s Giorgetta for Chailly, there was touch of soubrette, though partly thanks to incredibly insightful staging at La Scala put to more specific use there than here. An all knowing earnestness to Giorgetta in how Racette played this also worked against her and perhaps also against our sympathies as well. Racette muted expected passion for Luigi and expression of desire for freedom from situation in which Giorgetta finds herself.

The Patricia Racette - as publicity writes - that dissolved into each heroine in Trittico, came about most, if still overtly so, as Angelica. Some quavery tone compromised both her opening offstage solo and start to refrain of “I desideri sono i fiori del vivi,” but with the latter a fully formed individual indeed emerged the most it had yet in this Trittico. Racette very well found somber color and warmth for the episode with the wasp stung sister, and very well too beseeching tone, moments of hysteria and deep sadness so well by end of central scene with the Princess. “Senza mamma” was felt to just significant extent from within, deeply moving, but compromised by two things – too much sobbing, gasping during orchestral interlude for slow exit of the aunt soon before and tone incapable of placing quite right - getting stuck in groove on sustained notes near the break. One had to admire how very closely Racette listened Saturday for intonation, for it not to go so far astray as for Butterfly and Don Carlo still recently from the Met.

One could also suspect some copying of Scotto’s interpretation – noticeably so in the death scene. Scotto, well understood by Racette, conveys on disc how different from her it is interpretively, given her personality and what different feeling she would have for Angelica from more culturally inbred information she naturally had for the part. Scotto was still not ultimately more a genuine Angelica than Racette. Racette invested tremendous adrenaline into making the last twenty minutes of this work the way they did for her, to be able to issue forth tone and also line of some quality from deep below and the larynx. She did so in such a way that could have risked for her more damage than already some faulty technique over so much time. Her Lauretta, while sincere, in Gianni Schicchi, sounded both mature and knowing, with persistent wobble above the staff.

Here was still an estimable achievement - one, doing all three heroines in one night, not easy at all – one often resulting in one compromise or another – with the dangerous tessitura in Angelica and considerable difference between how all three parts are written. Barbara Frittoli had the more even tone and legato, more restrained poise as Angelica in 2007, making something, mildly remindful of Tebaldi, equally moving of it then.

Wendy White and Barbara Dever repeated their Monitor and Novices ‘assistant principal’ from two years back - authoritatively so. White had the steadier tone and air of authority and sympathy - Dever the chestier, mildly more incisive, with crack to the sound in issuing reprimands hither and yond – remindful perhaps of how Fedora Barbieri sounded at it. Heidi Grant Murphy, occasionally exposing some thinness of sound, filled such out in echoing some of what had preceded her from Racette on early refrain with very convincing warmth; she ideally found the naïve, sad, and charming simplicity of Genoveffia to near Cotrubas levels. The musical and interpretative growth of this artist, through the Angel for Metzmacher in Messiaen last year at the Proms has been something lately very noteworthy. Tamara Mumford was still stern but more warmly authoritative as the Abbess, toward fitting new interpretative profile for upcoming meeting between Angelica and the Princess than the more incisively stern Patricia Risley in 2007. The two lay sisters lacked sufficient intonation, but two alms sisters expressively won our sympathies, as did the sweet toned Dolcina (Jennifer Check).

Alright! Time now for Steffi – not the one on ABC News– as to help kick off now a new season of the Meg and Ira show. What is to make of such incomplete synopsis with full interview cut-ins of Miss Blythe? Are we then to start on episode of One Life to Live or Guiding Light? Reckless daughter of estate shows up to then be informed of dead child – notification, herb preparation on Friday, suicide on the Monday. I mean, is this Miss Blythe or could it be instead Stephanie Forrester (or better yet if she could still sing – Maureen Forrester)? With all the consultants, publicity the Met hires, why not Susan Flannery? At one point, I was fully expecting news of hot dates out on the town for cocktails with young, dashing Albanian tenor before all got said and done – excesses that Ms. Flannery might recall for her character – or perhaps own personal life as well?

Sure, there are back stories to any character here, but if you will, please show me where in the music. We should not be getting melodramatic excess for scene with the Princess either; both ways quickly turn to bathos all the same. Almost churlish to mention it, but the one Trittico I have run across that most successfully avoided both potential problems for this scene was with Barbara Frittoli and the more aged sounding Marjana Lipovsek for Chailly and Ronconi. Certainly, Miss Blythe has grown in her understanding of the part, but vis-à-vis the music, somehow sounded distracted this time, as she also did so much as informed by byplay with Saimir Pirgu during Gianni Schicchi. We can fully surmise that Zita has done much the same thing in gathering up a few potentially undocumented immigrants herself. Here is indeed a real artist - with the fine voice, beautiful technique and stamina Miss Blythe offers. Churlish though it may be to mention it, but since Ronconi/Chailly, nobody at the Met has come up with any better. In the music of Trittico, as well in theater linguistics, there are what are called gaps. Come to think of it, it is the midcult pop mysticism of how the Met’s Suor Angelica ends that by now has become rather silly, as much as anything else.

In film technique that Trittico, out of all Puccini wrote, may have influenced the most, one has suture to fill in gaps mentioned, suture that protects or consoles us from encounter with the Real, on Jacques Lacan terms. Here so much of society is made up of the entire hierarchy of the family, the convent, the whole social order running things that in place of that insufficiency, there is also trace or stain of mysticism that Luca Ronconi uses that functions as suture in its place. Suture provides the role of something that may in a way symbolically provide some validation underneath the rest in the vicinity of the destitution of so much even in our midst. We do not need back stories. Many of us have lived life and have also seen more than enough soap opera. It makes for great coddling to bring up the Princess’s back stories, may even win new audiences, but such also, I have a flash, protects us too from work of art itself as well as from any real encounter with it thereof. The structure, the integrity, the aesthetic of Puccini’s music may demand a little more– but what do I know? Disregard what I say. Bring Susan Flannery on!

Turning at last to Gianni Schicchi, after tallying it all up, if one had to name most successful artist here, the answer is obvious – Alessandro Corbelli. I hope saying so lends some credence to hope that we need a new dvd out of this with him cast as Schicchi. The one dvd featuring him in this is so unsatisfactory, as to not generate any real humor or laughter at all.

Saimir Pirgu was the sweet toned, lyrical, astutely minded and phrased Rinuccio – better than I remember him from the broadcast of the L.A. Trittico with Thomas Allen fine in the title role. He understated “Avete torto”, to sincerely affect modesty - especially with Miss Blythe not far away, but then rose with good chutzpah for the aria’s closing lines, and soared freely, doubling a wobbly Racette for closing refrain on the balcony. Blythe – more broad than specific to character - some nagging inability thus far to ideally find the part of Zita in her voice - and Racette I have mentioned already.

Donato di Stefano repeated his sense of cross between gravitas and parody of such to perfection as Simone. Patrick Carfizzi went out of his way to make Betto appear crotchety, while incisive with his words. Patricia Risley and Jennifer Check had in each their individual manner the dolcezza for Ciesca and Nella. Risley on purpose made something more clearly hypocritical of Ciesca, to great humorous effect – both artists repeats from last time. Paul Plishka evinced comic gifts very well as the doctor, James Courtney haughty, equally benighted sense of authority as the notary to risible effect.

As for Stefano Ranzani, he offered more a mixed bag, in terms of results, than did Levine in 2007. There were elements of each drama for which he showed sympathy, others that eluded him. His Il Tabarro, while Levine indeed gave us cleaner ensemble and more secure downbeats, had the earthier, grittier quality to it. Hanging this Trittico on the broad panoramas of the O’Brien production is tricky, to say the least, also its great charm that helped trip up Levine. More it was issues perhaps on how to ideally coordinate it all with at times temptation to still apply the broad brush that may have eluded Ranzani. Sense of what harmonic changes occur and how they fit and interact, attendant on shifts in light of the early evening sky and of mood of the river below require in Il Tabarro a little more rubato than Ranzani felt comfortable offering us. Even while tentative, Ranzani's feel for color and atmosphere was much preferable to that of Levine.

Levine found the more Gallic delicacy, luminous quality of sonority for Suor Angelica, the opening of which Ranzani, too broad, made just generically plush. Opening sonorities, slow current of pulsation underneath, to avoid things starting flat-line for bird call as halo above, got compromised. As the convent came to life however, so did Ranzani, with him supporting his singers well and finding together with fine supporting cast the simplicity of their lines. Ranzani then mustered up the vitality to support Racette in full, though hinting at sinking all into bathos – especially if all had gone more broadly than it had already.

Schicchi turned out probably best for Ranzani, though one had to wait to hear forthright enough the boisterous laugh that opens the dramma giocoso until it would repeat after the new will had been read. Corbelli was firing off on all cylinders here, so nobody could have done anything at this point but follow him.

“Avete torto” lacked rhythmic swagger - chords underneath to potentially lend things more oomph than anybody at first mustered for it. Much of the parody, wit of the story still made it across the footlights incisively, if slightly more awkwardly at several junctures than with Levine. Evident here was more a rambunctious eccentricity of the writing. Ranzani capped all off with gorgeous sense of twilight for young couple over sight of Il Duomo and all Florence behind them - nostalgia laden morbidezza from the strings on aching consequent, followed by speech and boisterous close to everything.

Corbelli had the greater freedom at the Met – than on dvd - especially this time, in investing Schicchi, marking the bitterness in the writing, with the peasant manner of the guy with utmost simplicity. This included in his specific dealing with each family member and with those helping tend to business. His was most of all the great wit, savage at times, especially during the reading of the will, and ingenuity. The part has deepened for him - perhaps a virtue or two of the Glyndebourne Schicchi I have overlooked. Next to this at the Met, it looks and feels so very stiff, whereas at the Met Corbelli is free.

Jack O’Brien does not quite have the complete picture in giving us such a naturalistic approach. There is so much, with all its intentional gaps this piece has, so few of those underlined by Puccini, easy to miss. The casual, glib, quasi-Broadway manner with Il Tabarro shortchanges it - such as would be an outing by the nouveau riche to do the radical chic thing and go slumming through the lower depths. In all perspective, much of the story still does get told, though missing what may indeed lie beneath its surface. I found Ira a bit derisive at intermission about idea of allowing room for a (small) barge onstage. Well, it so happens, Ira, that the music in Il Tabarro does obsess somewhat with the river; should one crowd out the river for magnificent panorama of Paris, then one could have missed or have significantly undercut something – Puccini’s music.

Alessandro Corbelli may have walked to a triumph here, albeit a bit vocally thicker as Schicchi than previously at the Met, but free as he ever has been at anything before – and absolutely hilarious. He will agree– why Ronconi and Chailly were so incredibly successful at this in Milan – that the hero at end of day with Il Trittico is always still Giacomo Puccini.