HGO: Donizetti's Maria Stuarda (new) - first for company. Joyce di Donato. Katie Van Kooten. Patrick Summers. Kevin Newbury. 27.4.12.

Houston Grand Opera, in its fifty-seven year history has not until this time put on a production of the second opera in the Donizetti Tudor Queen trilogy, Maria Stuarda. Dame Joan Sutherland, during the sunset years of her career, had HGO provide her a staged revival of Anna Bolena. This event, HGO’s first Anna Bolena, automatically carried with it a sense of grandeur, just in anticipating Sutherland taking on this peak role for the first time, both in concert at Lincoln Center and on stage here. The Metropolitan Opera is amidst a Donizetti Tudor trilogy of its own that Peter Gelb had originally planned to have star Anna Netrebko throughout; Netrebko eventually reckoned it more prudent to commit only to Anna Bolena (seen on cinema screens last fall) thus far. Enduring operaphiles can still recall Beverly Sills taking on all three roles for major New York City Opera revival forty years ago.

Our new Maria Stuarda, originally to have been staged by Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser, proved only halfway convincing as new role for Houston favorite Joyce di Donato – anticipatory of her repeating the role for this opera’s first showing at the Met next season. Not terribly great theatrical excitement could necessarily have been expected from Caurier and Leiser, but at least probably a better sense of scale, and more elegant set design than we have had from who has come in instead.

Kevin Newbury’s production, with ponderous sets by Neil Patel, and mostly stylish costuming by Jessica Jahn, all making their HGO debuts, proved very ordinary.
While sticking to traditional blocking, and mostly reasonable interaction between cast members, Newbury remained on safe ground. His production also proved short on taking any risks. Statuesque childhood profiling of two queens involved at stage rear during Act One orchestral introduction proved inconclusive. Perhaps the audience needed visual stimulation until time for real action to begin. Such proved additionally insipid for pantomime of Elisabeth during an abridged and choppily performed Inno della morte – often instead haunting choral number three-fourths through Act Three.

Slow descending blocks of set design proved cumbersome - all eventually emulating some perverse obsessing over large objects. Regal emblem gift-wrapped looking block pillars took the cake. Both queens, while adopting a still posture on stage started to look statuesque themselves several times. Having the Elisabetta of Katie van Kooten perched, standing upon high pedestal for her first aria proved stilted, obnoxious. Joyce di Donato descending a plain metal rolled on staircase seemed hardly less clumsy.

Most routiniere however were the musical results for what some of us might have reckoned an important revival here. Maria Stuarda, from near the very beginning, has not had the happiest performance history on record, neither that nor quite a recorded legacy up to what this work deserves. For starters, the orchestral writing reveals Donizetti at his very best at it, composed for orchestra at Naples (though premiered at La Scala) that under Rossini’s eight years there had further established a fine reputation. Seeking out how to emulate the meditative tone of the Schiller tragedy, on which this opera is based, this is the most inward looking of actually Donizetti’s four Tudor queen operas (the other being Il castello di Kenilworth). What love interest gets explored in Maria Stuarda is of limited scope, and not very convincing.

The title role is written in a slightly but noticeably lower tessitura than other Donizetti heroines – as having been written for Giuseppina Ronzi de Begnis (though created by Maria Malibran), a famous Donna Anna, Norma and also Rosina (Barbiere) of her day. Imaginatively, the finale (Aria del Supplizio) for Maria, to the opera as well is comprised of two major slow sections, eschewing the brilliance of other aria finales of the era. It has only been fairly recently, outside Italy, that this work and its merits have become more deeply appreciated.

Most notably Janet Baker and now Joyce di Donato have further revealed how tempting the title role, with its slightly atypically low tessitura is for mezzos to sing. Interpolating high notes, even while transposing much material for Maria down alternatively a half and whole step, di Donato managed with ease. Di Donato indeed sounded compelling during her opening aria “O nube che lieve”, taken a half-step down, sung with a lightly inflected mezza voce, including good trills. Its melodic line anticipates “Des quells transports” from Don Carlos for Maria’s friend Elisabeth de Valois and Carlos; both are in D-Flat Major, each in context of prevailing C Major overall And this happens likely to similar psychological effect – of reliance upon some delusion to maintain good peace of mind.

Although similarly floated phrases occurred elsewhere, some awkwardness of approaching Maria as a mezzo became unavoidable – but hardly so for an aging Janet Baker thirty years ago – as emulated by di Donato early on and employing all the very same transpositions down Baker had. Affectation of humility at start of ‘Dialogue’ with Elisabetta Di Donato handled well, as also her rage spilling over during same developing confrontation. Di Donato’s agility for this music is mostly secure; her mastery of other facets of her vocalism though is subject to doubt.

One expects more suppleness for role of Maria Stuarda than for Elisabetta. Di Donato sang Elisabetta in Geneva five years ago - very successfully. Lately though, even with valiant effort to achieve a free and light soprano top, some tonal hardness, stiffness has developed around the break – evident here, plus curiously bland middle register. Pitch accuracy intermittently also became problematic. More audible from di Donato today too are shifts between registers, tendency almost to aspirate phrase openings. With partial attempt to rein in and relax the chest voice, legato also gets compromised.

Vulnerability of this beleaguered queen of did not fully register. Light red dress attire further underlined some lack of nobility during final scene(s). Such qualities seemed more run aground by leaving exposed technical hurdles, encompassing Maria’s florid lines, moreover by a generic countenance and approach to this character together with her music. Ultimately, pathos regarding Maria’s plight did not quite seize the day, perhaps for di Donato being of customary (post-)modern mindset of needing to fit in.

Matching cardboard quality of the sets was the unstable Elisabetta of Katie van Kooten, quite effective an Ellen Orford in recent Peter Grimes here. Van Kooten here however sounded out of her element. For starters, while being incisive with certainly well understood text, her vocal production seldom came across Italianate. Considerable push and strain at achieving spinto tone - agility only mildly compromised - damaged tone quality, from weak low notes, through vinegary tone in-between to shrill top - some squall right beneath. Van Kooten especially sounded heavily miked at the Wortham; the resulting harshly bright metallic effect downstairs verged on ear-splitting. Her highly questionable intonation then seemed irrelevant.

This Elisabetta, all very two-dimensional, came up then very short on noble bearing – hardly then seeming of any real power with which to reckon. Van Kooten managed to restore Elisabetta some composure, warmer legato for several lines starting Act Three – hardly sufficient to make up for much else.

Leicester, musically written well, seldom becomes dramatically effective. In Geneva, opposite a cold, but fully rounded Elisabetta of di Donato, Eric Cutler stood his ground as a musically even, gracious, deferential Leicester - of naturally drier resources than several other tenors. This go-around he opted to wear his heart on his sleeve. Like Stephen Costello (Dallas’s Leicester in 2007) as Percy in the Met’s Anna Bolena recently, Cutler made the very epitome, with much bleating, of a kicked puppy as Leicester. Pleading Third Act duet with Elisabetta became most embarrassing. There were still lines remindful of Geneva, his fine Tamino here four years ago too, but not supplying the prevailing impression this time.

Catherine Martin somewjhat too briefly supplied a warm, steadying presence as Anna. Oren Gradus contrasted well his dark-toned, slightly worn sounding Lord Cecil, while demonstrating fine bearing, with Talbot of Robert Gleadow. Gleadow appeared sympathetic, ingratiating, musically conscientious, with lower register dry, then reticent for filling out some of Talbot’s lines.

For his fourth Donizetti piece here, Patrick Summers conducted. From an authentic practice perspective, also of what bel canto conventions establish, Summers demonstrated some understanding here. However, sense of real aesthetic encompassing such a work, also of especially how Maria Stuarda breaks free of convention, came across only tepid, and therein exists the challenge. Inhibitions his singers encountered were likely partly due to a frequently stiff, unyielding beat. Places to make various forms of accelerando, piu mosso, frequently came across jerky, choppy - not inculcated well into overall flowing line. Fawning over particular lines from di Donato eventually sounded contrived. Grandeur, solemnity implicit to two important Third Act choruses (the Preghiera included) sounded short-changed

Extensive numerous cuts, many of them to repeats, became customary. Clipping of phrasing, rhythms undercut, in addition to extensive cut therein, dramatic stretta finale to Act Two to point of sounding frivolous. Clpping also occurring during highly theatrical dialogue between two queens central to three-part demarcated finale to Act Two made the dramatic apex of Maria Stuarda merely virtual diminution thereof. Similarity to Lucia arises in that similar sextets open both Act Two finales. What desperation and nastiness di Donato and Van Kooten could muster - also generating annoying audience laughter downstairs due to weak buildup to such a big moment – helped rescue this episode.

Much want of grandeur, of rich color and intricacy Donizetti made substantiate such remained to the end, seldom got satiated. Here we had Maria Stuarda made diminutive, auspiciously minimized – upon special occasion of its HGO debut.

HGO: 1886 Don Carlos (plus 1867 extracts) performed in Houston for first time in French. Patrick Summers. John Caird.15.4.12.

In 1985 DGG released first ever commercial Don Carlos – French 1886 version conducted by Claudio Abbado, starring Placido Domingo among a mostly Italian cast. Appendix includes ballet plus five other Paris extracts (1866) Verdi soon removed and did not replace. Most popular option recently should any of this get inserted – even if only following 1866 - Carlos’s angry declamation and Carlos-Philippe duet together following death of Posa appears as only one among above-mentioned extracts.

At the time the Abbado got released, specialized press mentioned 1972 BBC concert rendition (now on four Opera Rara discs – 2006 release) of the complete 1866 version (erroneously labeled 1867 for year of Paris world premiere). In-between we’ve had Pappano’s Paris recording /dvd (very preferable not only for its being in French to recent Pappano at Convent Garden) – though this Don Carlos edition-wise a mishmash.

At least the Pappano did not claim near as much as has Houston Grand Opera for what they just put on at the Wortham. Neither did Welsh National Opera, when John Caird’s production first opened there. Rodney Milnes, in Opera (U.K.) credits it as having been the 1886 revision with restoration of Paris extracts implanted back in (excluding the ballet) including Carlos-Philippe duet ”cannibalized for the Requiem” (Milnes). This is curious; as of 1867 neither any requiem was in the works, involving Verdi, nor had impetus for one arisen yet. Recall of Milnes’s comment almost compelled me - Cai Mingbo, fine assistant at founding this blog, can testify - to input some error here; having Julian Budden on hand then fortuitously intervened.

As recently as 2005, Milnes esteemed both getting Don Carlos performed in French, and circumspectly how (implied) ‘Paris extracts’ got restored as each “a heroic act;” perhaps so. Houston Grand Opera has claimed to have taken things further. ‘Original’ as in ‘original version’ shows up eight times in Houston Chronicle preview of Don Carlos, then ‘authentic’ twice. Had this been twenty-plus years ago, a near fully synonymous claim could still be responsibly made for much of what transpired here. Restoring the 1866 or 1867 edition might then have been reckoned venture arcane or recondite, not to mention procuring corresponding orchestral parts, expense involved. It however this past decade is fait accompli, just not as of yet in Houston, Texas. What got played here instead was entirely 1886 - plus (almost) four interpolations from 1866-67,

‘Trims’ occurred outside of what “we knew Verdi wanted to take out” – Summers adding to how Verdi might “wield the knife”, despite much sanctimonious espousal of Verdi’s wishes. One can surmise the 1886 Don Carlo might only be based upon a ‘rushed’ Italian translation. Perhaps the Italian did get rushed, but what then have we had here? The music was clearly 1886, lest anybody one day become incredulous at true ‘original version’ that before chronologically John Matheson, Ingo Metzmacher, Bertrand de Billy, and Maurizio Benini have conducted - latter three at major European houses – and with it in French.. De Billy (Vienna) is available on both compact disc and dvd. Revisions from the ‘original’ French, the historical record asserts, became laborious between Verdi and surviving French librettists (a temporarily offended Camille du Locle, then as auxiliary, Charles Nuitter). Du Locle and Joseph Mery were the original librettists.

Heavy cuts got taken to banda scored music during the auto-da-fe, alongside staging-wise (as even Houston Press claims) selling short grandeur of both music and spectacle therein. No version, as occurred here, authorizes Act Three to begin with Carlos’s ‘”A Minuit” (“E mezzanotte” - recitative). 1884 haunting orchestral prelude makes sole alternative to exchange-of-veils duet for female leads to open Act Three.

Cut of ‘magical’ twenty-plus seconds with which to conclude “Des quels transports” (duet) remains inscrutable. Youtube snippet on HGO’s website early made me aware of this, thus it had me apprehend dastardly cut of “L’heure fatale est sonnee” (just past Thibault’s interjections at Fontainebleau about fateful shift in plans), then of ‘O prodige” from Act Two duet; fortunately my fears were unfounded. Quasi-Gounod high wind scoring at Fontainebleau ‘magical’ to Budden might inhibit Summers – music out of sync with lofty 1886 passages or anachronistic with Verdi’s ‘Wagnerian aspirations.’ Verdi, perhaps benightedly, always declined to cut any of this passage himself.

Verdi’s ‘Wagnerisms’ have become lofty considerations at one local corner of the blogosphere. Oddly enough, doing the 1866 or 1867 version straight (latter without Carlos-Philippe duet), with freedom to cut all the ballet, might most comfortably fit Summers’s more natural predilections. Not however with Verdi’s aspirations to Wagnerian ideals might then such a decision adequately take to Verdi’s loftier instincts, mind you, his desire to compose like Richard Wagner. Even in mind of many later improvements to have transpired, case now fully suffices for doing, even unabridged, the flexible, frequently stylistically consistent original version.

John Caird’s production, heavily set (Johan Engels) with pervasive Cross motif, is glibly noir, second tier melodramatic. Neon magenta lit crosses adorn bleachers on both sides on monotonous unit design for closing scenes. Some lassitude or malaise fills space where any physical action seems very unlikely. Previn’s “Brief Vacation” (2009 - Caird’s HGO debut) was much easier for him than has been Don Carlos.

Interaction between characters, their ability, inability to connect, looked stiff. Eye contact between lovers at Fontainebleau was weak. Situating Carlos and Elisabeth at opposite corners of outspread heavy sheet indecisively set stage for their Act Two duet Carlos outstretching his hands to compel Elisabeth near turned haunting portion of final rendezvous completely banal.. Lighting (Nigel Livings) was equally off, i.e. spectral night opening Act Two gardens (with web shadowing of obsessive Cross design).

With benign consequences certainly unlikely on one occasion, violence on stage was something, with no trace of irony to anything, to seemingly occur at random, i.e. how could Rodrigue in Act Two get away with starting to turn brief altercation with Philippe physical? Carlos being thrown to stage floor by guards to open the prison scene was gratuitous, all off in intonation with simple gravitas with which Verdi opens this scene. Intimations of torture, tight confinement of inmates towards stage rear began to resemble something lifted from Monty Python - as did quasi-KKK decked Inquisitor to enter all the way on stage to run Rodrigue through, then to very similarly dispatch Carlos at the very end – in case we missed how previous impaling got carried out.

Certainly risible was the major confrontation during the auto-da-fe scene Contemporarily decked out guards had their machine guns trained, for Carlos to then, not apprehended, armed with just one long sword, challenge the King. Even with Carlos having just turned over his weapon, these guards still then rush off, leaving madman free behind. (Spirit of) Charles V, open ugly sarcophagus thereof both blocking access to stage rear at the end contradicted more than Carlos being slain itself (from which some escape could still perhaps occur) final pronouncement by the mysterious friar. Quick procession of monks across the footlights to help start Act Two also looked awkward.

Rampant emotionalism further emphasized a pervasive lack of irony and lack of trust for one’s audience. Thoroughly diminished was tone to illuminate themes explored here - with any subtle sense of what complexity is involved. Anybody having attended Fidelio last fall could not have honestly received much of this Don Carlos well.

Brandon Jovanovich made his role debut as Don Carlos. Positive before here as Turiddu, in Austin as Sergei (Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk – Texas premiere), and as Boris in Kat’a Kabanova in Chicago, the awkwardness of Verdi’s writing and anonymous character of the staging especially affecting his part effaced him here. French diction sounded mildly coagulated, tone often curdled in negotiating everything. A handsome, affable presence on stage, even while matters improved vocally for him as the evening wore on, ultimately proved less than sufficiently decisive. This engagement resembled more (temporarily) a miscasting than it did any worrisome sign of vocal decline.

Tamara Wilson returned here for her second major Verdi role; her Ballo Amelia several seasons back proved very heavy sailing. Her sympathetic countenance was pleasant – if as though a wallflower perhaps. Up though until the last two acts, musical results proved tenuous. Farewell to Countess of Aremberg emerged all beneath pitch. Tremulous passsaggio, beneath freely floating top was evident, habits also to reach low notes from above and to swallow consonants. Wilson’s gift for lyric Verdi became clear during Act Four, then for securely spun out Act Five aria, with fine expressive legato.

Christine Goeke, to qualified success, made her role debut as Eboli. Veil Song sounded unnaturally heavy, dark, and sour with intonation. She then developed into an incisive tigress of an Eboli for trios in Act Three, and then blended well with Wilson for rarely sung “J’ai tout compris” in Act Four. With much savvy and ringing top Goeke robustly commanded the stage for “O don fatal.” Loading the stage with ladies-in-waiting of considerable girth for her opening scene did not favorably complement having both Wilson and Goeke on stage together moments later.

Two looking most committed to this production, partly from having sung this at Cardiff in 2005 were Scott Hendricks and Andrea Silvestrelli. They also proved the musically and arguably histrionically the most lacking. Hendricks offered mild hope early on he might tone down playing Rodrigue too proletariat. Act Two romance emerged unattractively dry, but tastefully. Much hectoring, forcing then held sway during long duologue with Philippe. Rude manhandling of Eboli made Hendricks, with his costuming, resemble having just walked on off set design for Il Tabarro. Prison scene, especially an overacted “O Carlos, ecoute” emerged graceless, hectored, non legato.

Silvestrelli made a bludgeoning, quite unmitigated ruffian of a Philippe, frequently out of tune. His voice carries very well, but proved inflexible handling sixteenths admonishing Flemish deputies during the auto-da-fe. Raising jewelry box to close “Elle ne m’aime pas”, then to shove it in Elisabeth’s face to begin their confrontation together looked sophomoric; climax out of inevitable insult got derailed. Motivation to deeply probe the king’s frustrations though remained clear.

Rhetorically overpowering Silvestrelli was the Grand Inquisitor of, at seventy, Samuel Ramey, uniquely revealing sterling command of the stage plus alacritous sense of where the king’s vulnerabilities, curiosities, close ties lie. Ramey can be seen from La Scala (1993), holding forth there very authoritatively as Philippe (as with here eight years later) – with Silvestrelli very responsibly cast as the Friar. Ramey’s voice and ever unflinching countenance here emerged steady, firmly implacable. Mark Diamond (Forester), Boris Dyakov (De Lerma), plus a vivacious Lauren Snouffer as Tebaldo stood up to very eloquently represent Houston Opera Studio, plus longstanding HOS alumnus in an ever sonorous Oren Gradus (Friar).

When Patrick Summers conducted Don Carlo here eleven years ago, his stick technique looked tentative, but he was more circumspect for task at hand then. Emilio Sagi’s production provided him wholesome perspectival depth, fine illusion of grandeur, if abstractly, to much better couch or envelope what emanated from the orchestra pit plus all around than, for instance, something halfway resembling Broadway could do so. Sense of continuity throughout was fine, but also tendency to rush through passages needing more shape or nuance - to avoid brash sounding brass during Veil Song ritornelli, then for soloists to expand out on their lines (during “Si l’on repand encore” refrain to Elisabeth’s last aria - very strictly calibrated its light barcarolle accompaniment through its reprise). Very cool streamlining of royal couple’s entrance at San Just significantly undercut grandeur obvious there. Calibration between pit and stage notably slipped during getting slightly rushed the Third Act Flemish deputies’ concertato.

Solo oboes, trumpets sounded unfocussed; Barrett Sills’ cello solo starting Act Four was eloquent. Summers showed some lyrical ear for color within the Act Two duet - partly missing subtle change in tinta for ‘O prodige’ over gilding so much - approach that also dragged “J’ai tout compris” (Act Four Elisabeth-Eboli duet). Tone overall elsewhere started to sound anemic; choral work was less than up to expected ensemble standards (from Richard Bado). Summers proved quite adept though in achieving proper scale through most of Act Four Some affinity for Don Carlos also became evident during ‘Fontainebleau’ – also toward building fine atmosphere with which to open next scene at San Just. Pervasive sense of grandeur still seemed lacking from equation overall.

In order to de-cannibalize portions of Don Carlos, we should next assign George Romero to stage this. The ‘smoked’ (not quite fully immolated) heretics could walk off the pyre, then later stalk their persecutors toward the end of Act Four. Plot outcome might change somewhat even as might tempt Peter Konwitschny, to frighten traditionalists more, but they lost faith in him a long time ago anyway. Some other blogger previewing our production got caught up with discussing self-immolations, their making a comeback - as inspired by many Tibetans protesting oppression abroad. Some of the socio-political message of Don Carlos has certainly remained timeless until now, just as has that of Beethoven’s Fidelio. For sole unabridged ‘original’ Don Carlos on dvd, the De Billy/Konwtischny from Vienna (2004 - Arthaus), starring Ramon Vargas (Don Carlo – HGO 2001), staging included, comes highly recommend.

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.

HGO Peter Grimes - starkly retold tale of mad fisherman, starring Anthony D. Griffey 31.10.10

Fourth in a series of the operas of Benjamin Britten, conducted by Patrick Summers and produced thus far by Neil Armfield, this is also the first chance to have seen Peter Grimes at the Wortham Center - Grimes, Britten's second opera, first success at writing one - the earliest composed of collection presented here thus far. Armfield has enjoyed practically unqualified success with both Midsummer Night's Dream and Turn of the Screw and close to as much with Billy Budd, that opened the series in April of 2008.

Peter Grimes however posed a few problems, given concept with which Armfield and designer Ralph Myers commenced. Costuming and acting, updated to time of the work's composition, near end of World War Two, were as realistic and nearly fully believable as before in his work here. Acoustically, this production worked better than recent Grimes from the Met in which Anthony Dean Griffey also played the lead - for not going with wall to place all the way across, near very front of the stage, against which for orchestra and voices to project and ping too much. Where Armfield fell slightly short of the mark here was in treating Peter Grimes as near as much of an abstraction as characterizes Britten’s mid-to-late 1950's Turn of the Screw and Midsummer Night's Dream.

The idea here, though communicated vaguely, of playing Peter Grimes as play within a play - or of approximating such a concept - was not bad – but still one that has been tried before - to varying degrees of success and failure. One had subconsciously to react i to how the people appearing to be playing the real characters on stage were perhaps instead to an extent reacting to doing so as just real people. According to what Everett Evans cited from program notes, there was perhaps a little firsson in catching a group of such players assessing for 'final run-through' of sorts what is each of their best feet forward in getting the audience to react to story being presented as well as possible.

One spent the opening courtroom scene, trying to assess as best as possible, with most of the cast, including Grimes in the front row all arranged in straight rows for seating area, with nobody else so prominently seated as that. Hobson and Swallow, conducting proceedings, got stationed right at front, apart from the seating area. Most chairs during the first interlude were then moved off to have just a few positioned on bare wooden floor of town hall auditorium as one might position them out on a deck.

The set design only became oppressively monotonous for Act Two, Scene One, where perhaps at an angle, some perspective could be allowed to inculcate church facade - perhaps diagonally across one corner extra prop or two to indicate (plan for) town square. Conventionally set, the church facade, combined with voices emerging from behind it create a complete frisson between what is going on inside and then privately roadside. Once set design for the second scene of Act Two, with profile for Peter Grimes's drab hut pulled forward, Armfield's intent then became clear in remaining so abstract for scene previous; the idea still wearied the eye.

Together with Summers more concise and relaxed with this score's often elaborate demands, the opera’s last three scenes worked consistently better than, as all taken together the first four. Just one further allowance that could have been made was to open things up - toward sense of wider space to better indicate some sense of outdoors into which for boy to make his tragic exit - and through which for Grimes to make his final exit too. Long tables brought on and offstage, arranged in various ways, over which got laid out fishing gear, served as metaphorically abstract construct of sorts. Talk, as led by Anthony Freud and Patrick Summers after the show, discussed 'a breaking down of the fourth wall' a la Brecht, yet Armfield’s engagement with the audience seemed timid. Having mysterious silent figure, to represent the original author George Crabbe, eventually making it seem he was directing some of the action onstage, still left whatever concept being played out slightly vague. Not successful was having group of children run pell-mell back and forth across the stage for 'Sunday Morning' - evocative interlude starting Act Two and also to contrast with both the darkness of both preceding storm and dramatic situation to follow. Such gesture only communicated expectation that the audience will be bored, without something to constantly engage the eye.

Even with various problems pointed out here, the acting of both principals and supporting cast on stage, seldom held back, was both realistic and often lively - with costuming (Tess Schofield) very capably complementing expected action on stage. Lighting (Damien Cooper), if conventional, slightly gimmick laced, worked, except for having to cover excessive empty space for first scene of Act Two.

That this was Patrick Summers's first attempt at conducting Peter Grimes was certainly remarkable. And yet revealed again was his way of relying upon as a crutch certain affectation toward especially drumming up what will feed back contrived excitement instead of real. Good color from the brass enhanced atmosphere for 'Dawn.’

What might have made one’ look askance toward orchestra pit was mishandled rhythm at quartet started by Balstrode ('I'll give a hand’ - Act One, Scene One); Summers started clipping it. The lean quality of orchestral forces for this downtown is likely influence toward such perception here. Indication is here - fine here that rope merely got pulled manually across stage – of winding out of rope meeting resistance against a rotating capstan - with Britten marking strings and lower winds with slightly awkward accenting to depict the mechanical resistance.

What could have led Summers slightly astray here was Peter’s light calling out for helping hand right before. I sought out – suggesting Glyndebourne, thus perhaps idea close to mindset of Summers - the EMI Haitink recording. There is a subtle push forward toward end of this passage,, but Haitink slightly more gets marked indication there exactly right. Poise reinstated itself here well before Ellen's 'Let her among you without fault;’ - of which Katie van Kooten made firm entreaty; there are many others with similar bad habits on many prominent podiums today.

Jagged writing for’Storm’ i took on two-dimensional perspective – after exaggeratedly hectic ‘Look! The storm cone’ ensemble, with internal proportions to both passages tentatively profiled. ‘Old Joe has gone fishing’ got pushed excessively - as to apologize for its unbuttoned jauntiness. Most glaring however was hurried coasting through climactic moment right before Grimes enters Auntie’s pub from storm outside – that all got deflated here. Sustaining some integrity through everything was still some grasp of atmosphere and of dramatic situation at hand. All then comfortably fell into place for Summers for the final two acts of Peter Grimes; such issues almost never arose again.

The Passacaglia - opened nobly by viola solo (Eliseo Salazar) - had fine shape. Mystery, solemnity, of ‘Midnight’ to open Act Three was complete, as was the weirdness of the sixth interlude – excusing questionable intonation from violin first stands – and distraught, measured feeling for choral postlude for return to work immediately following the tragedy that has just transpired. Chorus, as prepared by Richard Bado, was consistently excellent, as was also the decision to place the pub band music in first scene of Act Three backstage. Movement about by the chorus for especially the gathering about for confrontations in Acts Two and Three proved the professionalism of also their stage direction evening long.

Anthony Dean Griffey began the role of Peter Grimes as practically just face from among the crowd, betraying on purpose slight nervous unease and struggle to maintain poise on the stand. His early unaccompanied duet with Ellen Orford had the requisite long-breathed legato - making fine shape of this haunting passage. There was here poignantly desire felt to retain some civility in interaction with community at large and good anxiety expressed with recall to Balstrode of the day one earlier tragedy struck.

The only thing that really misfired for Griffey here – moment as cited above prepared weakly by Summers – was ‘Now the Great Bear and the Pleiades’ (monologue), that for dressing it up a bit much with nuance, it then missed the focus, moreover eerie calm it must convey to make its impact. Exits off-stage with the boy - boy running off behind Grimes both into the storm and halfway through Act Two, rang somewhat false. Vocally most of all, the welling up of anger in this Grimes Griffey made something with which to contend during tense scene with Ellen in Act Two. Griffey was conscientious about humanizing Grimes, even while scolding, blaming the apprentice for his own woes; he then found his métier in freely expanding out vocally for berceuse to follow – intimate picture of Grimes from dreams he softly recalls, assessing what should lie ahead.

Groffey’s technique is quite individual –in his broad formation of vowels to help expand out sound below the break – a mild telltale hint of juddery vibrato only slightly intrusive thus far. Above the break, he lightens things just right, even often incisively, as proved very effectively, flexibly true for interpretively triumphant mad scene near the end. His long-breathed legato for both long melisma toward end and reprise of ‘What harbor shelters peace’ during moments of relative lucidity contrasted strongly with intimately detailed picture Griffey painted of imbalance and hysteria - the derangement that has usurped the mind of the lone and troubled fisherman by this point. Sense of helplessness was complete with Griffey’s dazed appearing, almost robotic final exit to sink his boat as ordered by Balstrode. Memories of seeing Jon Vickers in the part thirty-three years ago are not effaced or erased. Griffey however has nobly and very effectively found his own way for both acting and singing this most taxing part.

Katie Van Kooten, Hermia (Midsummer Night’s Dream) here before, portrayed a most sympathetic Ellen, making one feel this near as much Ellen’s tragedy as it is for Peter. She always made a beneficially striking lyrical vocal and stage presence. A little shrillness on top distracted only slightly from nuanced molding of the legato line – including for the ‘Embroidery’ aria. Her acting was most believable – attempt at firm resolve for Ellen to hold her ground mixed with vulnerability in Ellen’s inability to really comprehend what both Peter and she are up against, Among female leads, Meredith Arwady stood out as a blowsy, chesty toned Auntie, with direct, dour, all-knowing humor - at for instance ‘A joke’s a joke’, etc. Catherine Wyn-Rogers, good casting too, had the right look and menace as Mrs. Sedley, but while avoiding going over the top, vocally sounded reticent, held back, perhaps one cut too light for the part. The nieces, Kiri Deomarine, Brittany Wheeler (Houston Opera Studio artists) sang in tune with Ellen and Auntie for their very tricky quartet in Act Two, and made cheeky wit out of all the rest.

Christopher Purves, in his HGO debut, led supporting cast of men with a conventional Balstrode, with keenly observed sense of having been around – sufficient for ability to come up with clearly felt sympathy for Grimes and his plight – and with firm tone seasoned well with bluster or gruffness to entirely fill out the part. Liam Bonner looked dapper as Ned Keene, sang reasonably, physically acted the part well, without giving the apothecary as distinctive a vocal profile as have others. His droll alternating of interaction with Mrs. Sedley and scorn behind her back was spot-on.

Joseph Evans capably served as reticent and polite Rector. Beau Gibson refreshingly sang Bob Boles straight, giving the mugging and blithering that tends to follow Boles around the sick leave it deserves. Armfield and Gibson both found solutions as to how to depict the ridiculous hypocrisy of Boles without making it camp. Camp was a little unavoidable by halfway through Act Three for lawyer Swallow (Patrick Carfizzi), but with plummy tone and right lilt for dance step accompanying him, he effectively pulled off avoiding taking caricature to excess. He sounded stern, firm in interaction with Grimes, right past time the curtain opens. With sonorous tone laced with irony – alongside dependable Hobson (Robert Pomakov) – Carfizzi authoritatively pulled this off.

All in all, even if this drama having been prepared to surreptitiously creep up on one, then later to overwhelm us, this was an honest, forthright interpretation of Britten’s Peter Grimes from just abut all involved – several cut corners aside. Minor carping, criticism aside, Houston Grand Opera proved still quite worthy here of the challenge of having before hosted Jon Vickers, gracing the stage of neighboring Jones Hall for two runs both approximately thirty years ago.

HGO: Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream. A restoration of all innocence and mirth. 23.1.2009 (repost from listserv)

This was Houston Grand Opera's second go at Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream, one of only three full length Britten operas that I know the company to have produced thus far. It was last seen here sixteen years ago. A gently aqua tinted green color pervaded the entire set for very much of the entire evening. Rear and side drops with drawings in black etched on them gave the set design somewhat of a Japanese feel, as did also perhaps a wide swath of green vellum, crossing stage from left to right. Quite brilliant touch, just somewhat opaque trapping as this was, it got physically dragged down to cover Tytania and Bottom-as-ass in their slumber together in Act Two.

The first several characters to enter the stage were Puck (Jon M. Hill in an only speaking part), Oberon, king of the fairies and Tytania, his somewhat sparring wife. Houston favorite Laura Claycomb played Tytania, with close to ideally clear, agile line and vocalism, excusing just a little uncertainty around the break and several not quite fully supported high notes. The only thing that may have held up Claycomb from having more than mildly qualified success with Tytania was perhaps a mild or perceived lack of warmth. As more relevant further down, she was also working in atmosphere more cerebrally achieved than not or otherwise. She was costumed very attractively in luminous blue and white, embellished with much fluff and frills, with locks of her naturally red curly hair flowing down her back. Claycomb was ideally witty with again Bottom as ass, in their central absurd love scene together.

Welsh countertenor Iestyn Davies (HGO debut) vocally enjoyed one of just a short string of unqualified successes with casting here. Less ostentatiously costumed than is James Bowman on dvd of the Peter Hall production, he gave his part the air of mystery, contemplation, and aloofness in a way much of his part calls for. His vocal production was about the entirely most even of the entire cast and could have been identified by a few of us with that of Alfred Deller. I hope it not heresy to say either that I found his more subdued, thus more introspective, mysterious interpretation of Oberon, in acting also, to be mildly preferable to the blowsier James Bowman on the wonderful Haitink/Peter Hall dvd.. This was altogether a very fine piece of work from Davies.

The quartet then later sextet of lovers or couples was half successful. Best of all was the lyrical and ardent, always musical and most often in tune Lysander of Norman Reinhardt, heard earlier this season as Benedict in Berlioz. He also looked and sounded the most convincingly animated during the difficult quarrel scene of Act Two. This was overall a part that suited him a little better than did Benedict.

Least satisfactory was the blustery and pitch-insecure Demetrius of Liam Bonner, who sounded attractive enough when singing lyrically, but otherwise was really pushing it and for too much of his part. Ryan McKinny as the Duke of Athens Theseus, almost noble enough in appearance, was lacking in enough authority for the part, with insubstantial legato and weak low notes.

Among the women, I was probably happiest with the Hermia of Kate Van Kooten (HGO debut). Very charming in appearance and most convincingly in love of the two women among the first two couples, her voice and singing, perhaps just slightly rich for what expectations are for the part, had lovely color to it, with especially rich low notes and supple phrasing of her music. I just detected just a few pitch problems toward the end of her performance here last night. Marie Lenormand started off as Helena with less control of pitch, often below it somewhat more than fortunately how she ended; she was (in addition to Puck) also the least attractively costumed of everybody on stage. The two women looked indistinguishable in class from the rustics on stage, Bottom, Quince, Flute, etc. One easily gets the point. However, without further insight, contrast between the two classes of people falls almost immediately a little flat.

Leann Sandel-Pantaleo sounded somewhat more authentic contralto as Hippolyta here than for Ursule in the Berlioz last fall. It had me wondering if she might have been feeling indisposed somehow then. Phrasing her music sensitively, she looked and sounded trim, sufficiently aristocratic in this part.

As for the rustics, Matthew Rose (HGO debut), other than a bit uncertain in pitch at first then even later on for a few low notes, was the droll and wonderfully endearing Bottom. He enjoyed shilling to the hilt the death of Pyramus to the great enjoyment of everybody. Otherwise, he bantered about and sang animatedly enough among his team of six rustics without on purpose either in acting or vocally overshadowing anyone else - least of all the very lyrical Flute of veteran tenor Steven Cole, and the hilarious Snout and sprechstimme Wall (in Pyramus and Tisbe) of Jon Kolbet. Though with acting matching well enough with the rest, the practically also pitch-sprechstimme Quince of Robert Pomakov was a washout. There was so much rattle to his pitch that it was seldom easy to discern any.

The act of Pyramus and Thisbe in Act 3, to entertain the aristocrats, was a huge send-up for the entire hall, and for things that work this way downtown, was for the most part very convincingly funny, as opposed to the look-at-us, we're funny brand of humor in two recent runs of Mozart comedies here, Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni - very distracting in both. Since a wonderfully funny Barber of Seville here in 2004, fully appreciated by all, I do not recall an episode of such genuine and good laugh-out-loud humor as I found in Pyramus and Thisbe last night.

The skit animated Patrick Summers as well, though he tended to be quite good for all three scenes for the rustics - only on the dry or academic side for them during Act Two. At the beginning of Act One, the orchestra sounded insufficient in its lower reaches. This robbed the music of a necessary sense of its having overtones that even in notes not more than implied in the harmonic texture must somehow at least seem to land on the ear for Britten's music not to sound dry or academic. How would even orchestral forces as such, augmented a bit, be able to savor the Mahlerian (disclaimer::not led astray here by seeing the Visconti film) reaches of Death in Venice? Britten, by then, the end of his career, had very well cultivated an internationalized style and become the richer for it. Even in its chamber music sonorities, Midsummer Night's Dream helps pave the way to his underrated Owen Wingrave and Death in Venice.

Summers was at his best, accompanying Davies and Claycomb, Oberon’s noble aria in Act One, "I know a bank", after manner of Purcell, included. He gave good ear to the second episode for lovers in Act One (an act that is organized in rondo form), especially with the anxiety Hermia and Lysander express therein. This and episodes of writing for celesta and strings revealed an ear for color, though other passages through the evening sounded both tonally and rhythmically a little flabby. Undifferentiated as to the harmonic changes that occur in it, that is without sufficient nuance, the prelude to Act Three went sour in intonation from the strings of the HGO orchestra. Playing from the brass, which is to be often pungent in color sometimes came across as timid, though otherwise all well played, in terms of accuracy, pitch, etc.

How flat in perspective and lacking a bit in depth was a stiffly conducted final chorus right before the end of the opera, that should instead, marked 'slow and solemn', should be succulent in its tonal richness. Thanks in part to Summers, the best moment for childrens' chorus (otherwise lacking courage with accents) came at the end of Act One with a well animated, practically Stravinskian "You spotted snakes." Overall, I would gauge that Summers got the Britten about seventy percent right, but to avoid the hazard of this music coming across as two-dimensional, some further effort was needed. It was also considerably unwise, not to allow an interval between Acts One and Two. For, in fact, those who do not know the score at all, there was hardly at all any discernible break at all between Acts One and Two - indeed very unwise.

What went the extra step of the way in making Midsummer Night's Dream quite the scuess it was at its opening here was the mostly well gauged production of Nell Armfield. Mentioned already was the faux pas in costuming in particular one or two of the lovers, which for Helena, looked as though it could have come off a rack at Ross or Marshall's. Though including demonic looking Oberon and just a bit over-the-top for Puck that way, stage direction was naturalistically very effective. All moved in as natural and mostly unassuming manner as one would have desired on the minimalist set. Gratuitous underlining of material was gratefully close to nonexistent. Lighting for one scene, incisively conducted by Summers, with infusion of the green on stage by bright white light - the chastisement of Puck by Oberon in Act Two - was very effective. In the context of so much else, the lighting here was even startling as well.

For condition the economy it is in and Britten's writing in this case that shows significant departure from the more populist style of his Peter Grimes and Billy Budd, Midsummer Night's Dream gratefully received a quite full house. After the full shenanigans of Pyramus and Thisbe in Act Three, the audience vociferously showed their appreciation at curtain calls, including for seventh rustic, border collie Buddy, who during Pyramus and Thisbe indulged us with, ad lib, a moment or two of barking. If only singers ….

HGO: Previn world premiere - Brief Encounter

With the even somewhat commercial success of Andre Previn's first opera, Streetcar Named Desire that had its world premiere in S.F., his second opera met with considerable anticipation here. Previn wisely chose a story, a subject less portentous, weighty, with Noel Coward this time instead of Tennessee Williams.

One saw Streetcar, in the likelihood of already having seen the Leigh/Brando classic, to be still haunted by the poetry of the film that overshadowed the Previn - yet still the story had enough popular appeal. For many who embrace Americana of just about any stripe or flavor, for the always elusive hope of classical music cultivating populist appeal - especially for those who accept any apologia or excuse this way - one could not go wrong at all with Streetcar. The good news here is that Brief Encounter is a better work than Streetcar for reasons mentioned already. It makes a better chick (as in chick flick) or 'date opera’ too than does Streetcar.

However, the neurotic edge of both movie and the acting of Vivien Leigh was softened, marginalized and sanitized by the generic scoring of Andre Previn and the heavy back phrasing of Renee Fleming - with music written for her to cater exactly to that aspect of her vocalism. Elisabeth Futral, Stella Dubois in Streetcar, had perhaps the best solo of the first act in it and created Laura Jesson in the world premiere of the new opera.

For about thirty minutes of Brief Encounter – ultimately at 135 minutes none too brief - I began to think that Previn may have come up with a real winner too (with words by John Caird). He seemed to follow the design of the screenplay of the David Lean movie quite faithfully, if unimaginatively. Previn slipped too in having failed a bit to get Caird to scale things back on how far the part of Laura extends itself.

Previn, with extensive years of commercial background he has had, could not help, following how he wrote Streetcar, but fortunately less tendentiously here, making the opera considerably a star vehicle now for Futral as somewhat guilt-ridden heroine as is Laura Jesson by opera’s end. Same as happened with Blanche in Streetcar, passages of Brief Encounter, even with break-ins on banter going on at bar counter in the train stop, form especially in Act One into a stream of seemingly almost endless monologue for Futral - mixed in too with snatches and extended passages both of dialogue mostly with the doctor Alec.. Except in perhaps a self-regarding way, they ultimately fails to say or communicate much, especially when one considers the length of such passages

The story deals with a series of increasingly contrived unplanned mostly Thursday meetings (to eventually being planned entirely) between a married woman and doctor who is not her husband at the same train depot. The husband does not appear at all in the original one-act by Noel Coward, Still Life - neither is there in that play any flashback or, at least to significant degree as structural device, narration.

Previn's strengths include here having a pretty good ear for comic relief and the characters on stage that provide it and also capturing, momentarily numerous times the atmosphere overall of the place in which his action takes place. Emotions of regret and foreboding were clearly felt right at the very end of Act One and a good several times quite effectively during Act Two. His feel for writing diegetic music (music on stage) lacked sufficient humor to match what was happening on stage. The impatience of passengers with their continuing to play for well beyond the desire to hear them anymore certainly then became noteworthy.

As far as what humor he did adequately write in, the writing for Laura's friend, Dolly (Rebekah Camm), verbose in her gossip for the two extended scenes she is in, is smart.. It was certainly enough so, that the second time that Dolly comes on during Act Two same way, one felt like bending one's ear a little extra to eavesdrop on what she might have to say; Laura, by comparison, did not seem to have ever said much at all.

More than in Streetcar and in there being too more of an element of autobiography to Brief Encounter for Previn, I detected a little strain in attempting to apply a personal stamp to especially how well he (and Caird) had developed his main characters in this opera. How much that is due too to the influence of David Lean would require my watching the film. The character who is more reserved and less frivolous of the two protagonists in Still Life is Laura.

Previn infuses Alec (Nathan Gunn) with what he wants us to hear from near the start as more credible passion and conviction about his goals in life, whereas Coward's lines to do with the latter clearly read as though they are to just come off as flighty. Is it that with opera, here being in the realm of high art, that Previn does not want to be caught to have missed a beat this way? However, does Previn really have it syntactically in his attempt to present a personal operatic language to really convincingly pull it off? It just seems to be with considerable strain that he does so.

And then there is Laura's crossword puzzle obsessed husband Fred. At least, George, during 'Hump the Hostess' late in Act Two of 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf,' so bemusedly puts on that he is not even mildly irritated that his wife is (acting at) making out with the handsome young (and also married) new biology assistant professor (who and his mousey wife are still her invited over guests at four a.m.). Martha even more uselessly tries to get George openly upset over this and George gives Martha a little more of her fill of 'that's nice'. Cut Fred down to a torso and we’d certainly still have him.

The low point of Act One was Alec down to his skivvies on houseboat with Laura. The low but a somewhat intended high point of Act Two was a trio where all three (?) of them, including Fred, moon and swoon over the desire to be remembered for a long time to come. What could have been memorable might have been Alec with his hand on Laura's ass (while Laura is tormented inside whether she should be enjoying this or feeling guilty about it) while Fred hardly looks up at all. That we knew that Fred was probably never going to quite 'get it' (could he be autistic?) anyway, Previn could have ended Brief Encounter with the simplicity of letting us guess a bit more (except that he expects that we have probably seen the David Lean film by now) about Laura and Alec by ending the opera with a good scene that is there of ongoing witticism between Mr. Godby and Myrtle over at the counter, plus Dolly with her gossip of the day - and then a mere shrug of the shoulders or two by Laura - my idea - over whatever. Gosh. A 'kingdom for a horse' one of Fred's crossword puzzle clues ends up? How about 'a kingdom (or his castle) for the next train' instead?

Had Previn not cut Alec or himself as the complex heroic figure he does, he could have effectively had Laura do a Monica Vitti on us, as at the end of Antonioni's The Eclipse and speak of meeting again tomorrow, the next day after that, and so on and so on as though she could not possibly anymore give a damn or shred thereof one way or another ever again. Pipe dreams, you should say indeed. Brief Encounter would then make a lousy instead of the pretty good 'date' opera that in fact it really does - barring anyone upset over current or past infidelities.

Muiscally alone, a clever enough audience colleague of mine, possibly said it best that the whole thing felt like a play (with music in the background - implied). There is indeed a 'reinvent the wheel' tendency Previn shows in quickly becoming so gratuitous with seventh and ninth chords, plus for melodic line (somewhat as developed out of a good love theme first introduced by the orchestra) a constant arch over a minor seventh above perfect fifth to which Previn, I am only mildly led to believe, thinks he may have the same relationship as Al Gore once famously claimed to have with the internet.

Briefly before a little good music depicting a stormy breeze blowing the door to the station open or something like that, Previn at the start of Act Two does a sequence of a dozen plus harmonically distantly related triads and chords which made me immediately think of very similar passage in Britten's Billy Budd (right around point where Billy is to be read his death sentence, I think) that we did last year. I had to turn back and whisper to a older lady opera patron from Seattle to ask whether or not we should start counting to thirty-four when Previn repeated it halfway through Act Two for great moment of epiphany in its story line handed down to him and as intended to us here. Or perhaps one could have looked up 34 across or down on puzzle in the Friday New York Times.

Before I am seen to be picking on Andre Previn too much here, let it be said even from me that for Futral and the rest of his cast he has composed music that fits, suits voices, personalities and temperaments very well. Futral's singing, and as so complemented by Previn's music for Laura, has taken on more fully lyric qualities since her Manon (Massenet) for us six years ago; she has found a fine benefactor in Previn. She cut a very sympathetic figure on stage. One had to wait until a good aria for Alec alone to open Act Two as to quite know what to entirely make of his character either dramatically or musically. That was certainly no fault of Nathan Gunn, still very handsome and in fine, supple voice, acting and singing the part with the romantic ardor Previn requests. .

Rebekah Camm led the supporting cast with a cleanly sung, pert, sassy enough Dolly without turning any of it for a moment arch or cloying in any way. Camm has proven here one of the finest artists to have emerged from Houston Opera Studio, and as a member of the studio of Shirley Verrett - with whom Verrett must certainly be happy as well - after also her fine Pamina in Magic Flute of last season here. Kim Josephson, acting the part of Fred as troubled somehow but clueless nevertheless, sang, created his part well to all specifications.

Not having observed cast list beforehand, I turned to ask who was the fine character tenor as Mr Godby, to find out a little to my embarrassment that it was baritone Robert Orth, who we saw here eighteen years ago as a disappointing Guglilemo in Cosi Fan Tutte (together with Mattila, Van Der Walt, Stella Zambalis and Renato Capecchi). Should he ever follow Fink to be a next Alberich, I fear that for anyone in the future listening to the Ring over the air who does not know it well, one might confuse him for either the Loge or Mime. He proved as Mr Godby, equally ideal casting as such alongside cavernously ample voiced Meredith Arwady (the next Stephanie Blythe?) as incisively acted bossy lady at the counter, Myrtle, their banter accentuated once by playful slap (with good punch line) on where Ms. Arwady proved more than ample enough as well. Alicia Gianni was the cute, quickly alert appearing Beryl.

Patrick Summers led the Houston Grand Opera orchestra with full sympathy for Previn's opulent melodic lines and harmonic language, and very amply gauging its interesting moments here and there of rhythmic trickery with suitable aplomb as well. His pacing, even if Previn's did not always, worked very well for the piece; Previn found a well nigh perfect advocate in Summers of his new opera, and with by now more than ample experience in American opera, not only with Streetcar, to pull it off so well.

John Caird's production was sentimentally atmospheric and true to period in most every gesture, idiom, costuming, fine lighting and what have you. He returns here next season here for a new production of Tosca. Although my sentiments will only be echoed by a few, I had to think as Friday evening ended that this is what so much a standard mid cult audience for opera (such as anything of more sizable mind or intellect the Met and Peter Gelb go out of their way these days to discourage attending there anymore) imagines Puccini to be almost exactly.

The plot of Brief Encounter and more vaguely feeling for atmosphere could possibly strike one as, though at most, mildly allusive to that of La Rondine. And yet it is our loss, such as with the horrible dvd-immortalized Boheme from the Met last season, in our grasp of Puccini - even of La Boheme - that this is so. One of Myrtle's assistants sweeps up the floor of the train stop and there is no visible dust to come up. I am so reminded of the so nonexistent to be out-of-corners mice-eaten grime, dust Il Tabarro from the Met two years ago.

I should close here by referring back momentarily to good anecdote about Previn during his Symphony years here in the late 1960's. He possibly even confided to a friend of mine how speechless, amazed perhaps, he was that the Symphony offices were picking up so many calls (from presumably blue-haired old ladies) upset over his programming of Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms. Never mind that it predated his stint here with the HSO in when it was written by what was already nearly the age of the composer and conductor Previn at the time. There was little or nothing about Brief Encounter to strike anybody even nearly fifty years ago as being the least bit avant-garde. Even Previn, with opportunity to do so for a moment, might be wise to think back, for sake of posterity if nothing else, to all he could have meant then.