BBC: Royal Opera McVicar Aida - serious casting, podium upgrade from last season provides fine musico-dramatic focus. Fabio Luisi.

It turned out well for David McVicar’s production, new last season, of Verdi’s Aida to have received a second chance at Royal Opera, given how strapped it got with musically disastrous results last season. BBC annotation then more emphasized a kind of generalized smorgasbord of costuming styles, generations from ancient past to modern, something to please everybody, being thrust upon Convent Garden stage. This year their sound bite leaned much more on the garish, even graphic violence to depict of an at best vaguely located totalitarian war-mongering state – equally de-Egyptologized – no elephants, no pyramids – as how things appeared last year. Figures to represent shriveling up, rotting away corpses off the field of battle hung off meat hooks above Amneris’s richly marble enhanced boudoir.

More assured, confident to conduct this performance was Fabio Luisi. Most likely helpful too was the cancellation of Micaela Carosi - given how inadequate last year she proved for the title role – thereby Ukranian soprano Liudmyla Monastyrska made her Convent Garden debut. Dramatically, she provided cogent, well considered understanding of much at stake. Vulnerability of Aida’s plight, naivete with Amneris, toughness under stress, subtly and directly manipulative way of compromising Radames all evidenced themselves.

Good line, legato, coloration of the above adequately carried forth, albeit compromised by occasional cloudy tone, soggy diction, bluster toward pushing up the sound, artificially darkening it thereby; thickness around the break made this at times a real issue. Of concern also was tentative stab to get more lyrical acuti to float, sound less obviously detached, and thereby to keep intonation stable. For heroic utterances, such as closing Act Two, she clearly made herself heard, even while flat, and through Nile duet with Amonasro as well. Flexibility to lighten voice during ‘O patria mia’ and through much of ‘Fuggiam inospiti’’ later along the Nile was lovely. Grasp of how to float her sound waited several lines or so however to establish itself during tomb scene with Radames.
.
Roberto Alagna, largely assisted by deft, sensitive accompaniment from Fabio Luisi, revealed a more probing look at Radames through tendency to scale voice back and more subtly negotiated demands it makes than evident at La Scala several years ago – subject of the Roberto Alagna Milan Walkout, it turned out once. His sound was drier at Convent Garden than in Milan, but with considerably less of a constantly pushed up, projected quality than under a concise, more forthright Riccardo Chailly.

Some strain through ‘Celeste Aida’ was again apparent, its tessitura precariously centered around the break - as has occurred many times. Alagna still provided the smarts to define character – mix of sense of wonder and naivete innate to a good Radames – if all slightly weak at filling out heroic dimensions also characterizing the Egyptian captain. ‘Nel fiero anelito’ upon greeting Aida along the Nile Alagna provided good ring and purpose – and then shaded nuance his puzzlement at Aida’s imploring him to join her in fleeing south. Fabio Luisi proved his attentive best at not allowing Alagna to get precariously stuck for long on spinto required acuti to follow. (Radames murdering two guards during futile attempt at escape from the priests seems both indulgent, out of character). Despondency during scene with Amneris, despair with which to open the Tomb Scene and melos in head voice for final duet therein with Aida both got securely achieved. If not quite renascence of Carlo Bergonzi at lyrically essaying Radames, Alagna revealed an extra helping of nuance – beyond what may have in the Italianate repertoire been often likely during much of his past.

Olga Borodina was the regal, imposing Amneris. With years of experience at it, in fine voice sheobviated well the psychological complexity of the princess – also complexity of means by which Amneris gets her way, attempts doing so. With age, slight loss of certainty has crept in, in terms of keeping solid low notes, evenness between registers, but once past trio in Act One,, such uncertainty seemed to evaporate. Particularly moving during Act Four, an Amenris full of desperation and regret, Borodina overall made Amneris more the woman than avenging angel – stock interpretation that comes from singing the big Verdi leads three-fourths of the time. More than cantabile, melos for opening lines of Acts Two and Three, Borodina came across fully convincing as woman fully infatuated with Radames, then deeply uncomprehending of her passion going unrequited. Her feigning of concern even for Aida during Act Two, expression of empathy overall, was so good, it is still hard to believe it had not been real, albeit her ‘Trema, o schiava’s – as forceful, implacable as the best around - Borodina still insurpassable an Amneris.

Although without quite the natural bite in diction of an Italian baritone singing Verdi, Michael Volle made, secure across the range, ideal casting as Amonasro. Guelfi, Vratogna, heard at the Met, Convent Garden, Munich, La Scala, other places lack sufficient tone for ability to sustain it. Evenness of tone, assurance this way, by comparison, was here in spades. Along with fully humanizing the part, Amonasro’s plight, Volle frequently incisive with text whether using full voice or sotto voce, became all-encompassing. Volle’s catching the very circumspect and equally subtle conniving qualities of the beleagured king was all spot-on. The twenty minutes in which Amonasro must dramatically make an impression were such upon which Volle capitalized in full.

Not quite evil black ball of sound I found - as described to me by long time friend of mine who actually saw Kowaljow in London during the same run sing this. A relatively lean, still dark toned Vitalij Kowaljow, baritonal on top, mostly made convincing the both overtly firm and implacable aspects of high priest Ramfis. In providing solidity at bottom to cast overall, Kowaljow hardly ever came up short. Grasp of the solemnity of priestly character, simplicity of addressing Radames at trial directly both brought out the visionary reach typical of any good Ramfis - though vision being toxic - necessary to avoid resorting to stock villainy. Brindley Sherratt was tonally lean, all business as King of Egypt, imparting through ‘Su del Nilo’ sense of outrage out of supposedly being forced into (new) campaign against the Ethiopians. The smoky sensuous toned Preistess of Madeleine Pierard sounded probably soon worthy of larger assignments.

Several contemporary productions of Aida, probably good handful by now, offer setting generic as to specific time or location, or in case of Chris Alden’s in Berlin, updating and bringing action close to home altogether. Along with this arrives a new musical sensitivity - working toward eschewing making any characteristic pointing to much anything religious, political, social too specific. Repartee on replayed episode of PBS syndicated drama New Tricks however got me wondering about the good old legendary ancient Egyptians. From momentarily a much peeved ever headstrong Sandra Pullman to one of her detective co-workers - I paraphrase – ‘Say that again (and) I will make myself earrings out of your testicles.’ Ouch! McVicar already has accomplished near as much, as to how to suggest ancient Egypt - thus maybe not so good to provide him any further ideas.

Fabio Luisi opted for approach predominantly flowing, lyrical, mildly Teutonic in specificity over how to weigh, voice especially choral and brass sonorities. Having said that, Luisi steered mostly clear of replacing supportive line in the orchestral part with amorphous profile thereof, into which his singers should blend – as frequently occurred under Luisotti last year. Limning of string, then string-accompanied lines for flute made limpid magic out of preludes to both odd-numbered acts. Stark simplicity in building both Brahmsian stretti during Act One prelude was also insightful, as was measured pacing, attentive to getting rhythm precisely right and rests within line their full value to frame opening of the Tomb scene, infused throughout with limpid support for the condemned lovers, supple calibration of all else. Passages for brass, timpani, especially referring to priests, their asceticism Luisi replaced coming across (potentially) loudly violent or aggressive with bringing out dry sonorities strongly implied instead.

Attention to overall line and also dramatic interaction between singers, especially during the Nile Scene and last act – also during audience between Aida and Amneris and ‘Ma tu, Re’ during Act Two - was apt, mostly concise. Positive qualities to the scrupulous leadership from the pit also became evident throughout the rest, but most of the way until the opera’s second half, one had perhaps to grope around for being able to perceive any really specific point of view about Verdi’s Aida overall. This included streamlining of more forceful cabalettas - toward end of the Nile Scene and then during Act Four between Radames and Amneris. Alongside incisively minute attentiveness of Luisi to singers’ needs, while facing numerous potentially precarious moments, came some fussiness, thereby intermittently flaccidity as well, notably during the Triumphal Scene and for dances during earlier scenes.

Through the graphic violence of the staging, one could grasp issue of how any ‘lower depths’ regardless of time, ethnicity, nationality can get ‘marginated’ – word I learned this evening from repeat of PBS interview of Helen Prejean. I think word Sister Prejean wanted instead was ‘marginalized’ – during anecdotally wise citing of having temporarily resided in notorious St Thomas projects in New Orleans – concerning residents’ overall plight there. Or perhaps the word she intended might have been ‘margarinated;’ handful or two of mostly guys (Baker 13) at one fairly elite varsity, ‘Harvard of the South’ nearby opts for shaving cream instead.

Nevertheless good sense of purpose, resolve in mind here got Aida performed responsibly well, at last bringing dignity to bear upon David McVicar’s still relatively new production.

ROH Lulu (new production) - as devoid of shape, essence, form

George Perle has written very well that debate over whether we should do the Friedrich Cerha completion of Lulu or stick with the two act version with Variations and Adagio tagged on at the end could still be alive and well. There was some agreement with the Alban Berg Stiftung that at least loosely sought out some guarantee that if the Cerha completion was to be played, that the two act version still get performed as often. At least the conjecture has been with Helene Berg and most prestigious of Berg’s composer colleagues, each of whom turned down writing the completion of Berg’s sketches, that there was intended some reworking by Alban Berg especially of what he had of a third act already - but also even of some material from Acts One and Two.

From my own observations, as an aside, that might especially have meant for several passages from Act Two. Franz Welser-Most and more authoritatively Ingo Metzmacher in Hamburg have each opted lately for doing Lulu much as it was before 1979 – year of Paris world premiere of the new three-act version (F. Cerha) conducted by Boulez.

Antonio Pappano, at the Royal Opera, negatively made the case, in doing the three-act Lulu, for doing it in two acts instead. The pains and thoroughness with which Alban Berg took in writing Lulu were at best vaguely audible in his interpretation - especially so during the first two acts. Andrew Davis, from Chicago, at least was clear with this music and showed experience with it, if not drawing out much of its impetus, conceptual or otherwise, or making much of any case for either its dramatic or musical formal elements. For a good ways, it was intermittent from Pappano that we even got this much. The staging, by Christof Loy, exaggeratedly abstract, may have been a further liability.

The title role was handed to still somewhat of a relative unknown – Agneta Eichenholz. Here was certainly, a good stretch of the way through, a fairly brave attempt at it, but it was difficult to hear how things have developed for her in this part much beyond that. In a studied posture, her interpretation of Lulu was quite cool, glib, and passive throughout.

Eichenholz has a good lyrical voice, certainly with some soundness to it, to even attempt Lulu as well as she did. However, when the music turns up the heat for what is required here, Eichenholz’s solutions could only be described as curious. There was not so much a tubular means of achieving the high-flying acuti in this part - for lack of better wording best to be described as pressurized. The straight tone on notes above the staff including a D she quite securely landed on C-sharp, could not only be strident at times, but piercing. Some warmth got through, especially together with Alwa on stage, but frustratingly so little invested in scenes together with Schigolch, some of the opera's truly most intimate. Schigolch understands Lulu in numerous ways more than do the other characters in this..

Once the voice was warmed up, for the second half of the opera, from a good “O freiheit” to the end, Eichenholz provided more consistent results. She did reveal too how to pack a punch or two for several incisive lines in the part. A low point from her was the scene with Dr. Schon to close Act One. Lyrical voices that take on Lulu tend to trace lightly over the music, but with clear emphasis on the words, and also certainly enough tone to at least affect well sustaining the line. Eichenholz, to save voice perhaps, instead opted to chirp her way through this scene, remaining part of (Schoen) sonata passage, for Schoen and her. It was hardly identifiable at this point what was going on, other than there perhaps being a nervous Pomeranian nipping at the heels of Dr. Schoen. Such notion has come up as simile before; Eichenholz made it here full metaphor. insistence to Dr Schoen for calling off marrying his fiancé came across as what could have been instead her reading simple instructions by rote over nearby telephone. She rushed Pappano through opening stanzas or lines of ‘Das Lied der Lulu’ in Act Two, before finally opening out freely therein to reveal what aspects of her vocal art might indeed be worthy for Bergb’s Lulu. She, however, especially for its three act version, is not ready yet for this.

Michael Volle (Dr Schoen) was the most effective of principals in this cast. I am surprised that, as good a voice as he has, that he takes on this part still relatively early on during his career. He cuts as menacing a Dr Scheon as possible in numerous ways, without ever having to resort to barking Schoen’s lines.. The manic, obsessive energy of this man came through in spades, and without a moment where anything felt exaggerated this way or had to be. As Jack the Ripper, he adopted a warmer sound, demeanor very convincingly. Regardless how in other ways the outcome might seem already for Lulu, it was more obvious than just his being replica of Schon how magnetic his appeal was.

One had to wonder too during especially his second of two scenes alone with Lulu in Act One, how Volle could communicate effectively up against, what turned out to be so meager for resistance expected from Lulu. Synopsis wise, he was more likely having instead to resist her demands that in more ways than one appeared to be so miniscule in terms of being compelling - nothing hard to resist in the least.

Jennifer Larmore played a sensitive, dignified, cool, collected Geschwitz at about every step of the way through her part. Her voice, at times, betrayed some strain under pressure, but Larmore kept it quite understated the deep affection - not to mention on what grounds Geschwitz feels for Lulu. Willi Hartmann played lyrically the naïve, quite on purpose affected, and then tortured Painter well, without ever overstating the case. He caught as well the earthiness of the Negro (who slays Alwa during the final scene) very well.

Klaus Florian Vogt played a light voiced Alwa - as thus a good match to Eichenholz in the title role. Passage where Alwa reflects backstage on what it might be like to write an opera on story at hand near end of Act One went well, apart from clunky introduction to it by Pappano (regardless that it is the very start of Wozzeck one hears), as did some of the Rondo portion of Rondo-Hymn, split between both scenes of Act Two. He lapsed though into insipidly crooning “Ich liebe dich” through a high G at the end of his first full liaison with Lulu, but then however was hardly able to sustain anything at all over heavier orchestration by Berg at the end of Act Two for the Hymn portion of this passage

Peter Rose, as Animal Trainer, in selling story to follow, communicated proper authoritative sonority, necessary gusto and good lightness with the text simultaneously. He tended however, as the Athlete, to excessively ham up his lines – vulgar character that the Athlete is – and also clip notation and rhythms. Early in Act Two, he and Larmore seemed to reverse direction of Berg’s tempo markings from poco ritardando to accelerando, to clip what is written - in misguided interest of making it more incisive.

Apart from Volle and Hartmann, the most successful casting here was of Royal Opera veterans Philip Langridge (Prince/Manservant/Marquis) and Gywnne Howell (Schigolch). Lnagridge managed, in fine voice, to find the sinister charm of the Prince toward end of Act One, the begrudging fear and servility of the Manservant in Act Two and the wheedling nature of the Marquis during Act Three to very near perfection. Howell, while playing up a little much the comedic or accessible features of Schigolch, made something very human and involving of the character, with at his age, fine sonority, beautiful diction and reading of Schigolch’s lines. He made it a little further hard to understand why either the staging, Eichenholz or both did not allow much of any more than effective one-way communication with the Lulu on stage. At any rate, it is with perfect reason that Royal Opera keeps such veterans as Langridge and Howell around, for what they represent for the company. Experience does matter in this business.

Before things cohered very well for the final scene, Antonio Pappano gave us little reason why him instead of someone else to conduct this music. The BBC emcee reassured us at the end that in terms of clarity, Pappano’s approach to this music was effective. Texturally alone, things were unclear for near half the time. Except for some uncertain entrances, Pappano accommodated his singers well, including his excessively choppy conducting of Alwa’s hymn at the end of Act Two and making ‘chamber music’ out of at least one of the two big Lulu/Schoen scenes in Act One. Temperature was so low as if to resemble tuning into the noonday soaps instead, albeit with odd soundtrack for such.

The classical structures Berg superimposes on his dramatic layout or canvas were most of the time insufficiently clearly audible most of the way through such central passages - for much of the motivic/set row fiber out of which such is built. Rhythms for passage such as the exchange between Schon and the Painter, where Schon confronts the young man about Lulu’s past, sounded disorganized as to any sense of pulsation - even toward direction things should be headed. Cumulative impact of such a passage was greatly diminished. For rushing things too much, Pappano made almost a complete shambles out of lighter scene for Athlete, Schoolboy, and Schigolch early on in Act Two.

The pistol shot aimed at Schon came out ten minutes later at a rate one better associates with Minnie in Fanciulla del West than how quickly Lulu can pump the metal into Schon - as underpinned by clipped, smeared sixteenths from the ROH violin section. Subtleties in tempo directions were altogether ignored in this passage and two other places in this scene alone. The stillness at marking of ‘Grave’, right after Dr Schon has died, the pause or space needed for this moment, got sloughed off – with flaccid handling of slow stretto octaves right before. It became clear that Pappano, perhaps attempting to posture at being objective or clinically so, does not get it as of yet, when it comes to any of this music.

Pappano likely may have received good coaching for this - from Dohnanyi perhaps. He just has not taken time to thoroughly think this music through for himself – other than to achieve some diaphanous effects in context of music that then hardly ever appeared to go in any specific direction at all. Pappano tended from early on to gild, dovetail its lines. Within such an approach, his failure especially at first to shape the Schon theme in the big sonata passages of Act One meaningfully at all was bewildering.

To Pappano’s credit, at least the ragtime, English waltz, offstage band music during Act One, Scene 3, clearly sounded acoustically as though it was played offstage as marked. At least, to this pair of broadcast ears it did – and as though patrons at both Convent Garden and at Lyric heard things the same way I did, at least I imagine.

Before thinking the late Romantic era and jazz infusion of post-romanticism during Alban Berg’s own time in conducting his music, may I suggest that Pappano, plus anyone else doing this think instead of Mozart and his operas? It seems that big mistake here was in getting it wrong as to who should conduct the Korngold earlier in the season and then who should have conducted Lulu instead, even if it might have meant the two-act version (as it did in Hamburg) instead of the three-act one that got performed yet again. For alone how unprepared much of the first two acts of this sounded, this broadcast turned out to be the least persuasive of what I have yet come across in terms of doing Lulu in three acts.