LOC 2009-2010: Effervescently charming Elisir (at last) - Cabell, Filianoti, Corbelli, Campanella - January 2010; Season opener Tosca - Deborah Voigt

Dr. Dulcamara has made visitation on yet another opera company in the States, this time Lyric of Chicago. It was here that he would make the sale better than his other two stops on the continent, as performed by one singer – Alessandro Corbelli. The other major company to have had Elisir on over the past year or so has been Los Angeles, with Ruggiero Raimondi instead as Dulcamara (with Nino Machaidze apparently a winning Adina).

Most astute, clear musical preparation went into this Elisir, quite unlike in Houston under Edoardo Mueller or perhaps even under Bruno Campanella himself from San Francisco (starring Ramon Vargas and unsteady Inva Mula there). A working assumption is that Chicago used a mostly traditional production of Elisir d’amore, which is practically just almost always the best way to go about it. Once the charm of this simple comedy goes, then the game is pretty much up - the humor of it all quickly out the back door as well.

Conductor being the same as in San Francisco, I begin to suspect a co-conspirator among team doing the musical preparation for Lyric - Dr. Phillip Gossett. He it was who provided wonderful commentary on Elisir during the broadcast interval. He described eloquently how Verdi intimated Nemorino’s part for an Act 2 duet in how he wrote some of Gilda’s lines. He also spoke of the popular song origin of ‘Una furtive lagrima’ of how Donizetti pleaded with his librettist to be able to include it – in context of a very limited time frame to get things ready for Elisir’s first prima. However Dr. Gossett may have provided a hand just resulted in the most airy sense of lightness, fun, joie de vivre throughout the entirety of this, as though it all could have been played off the cuff. The fruits of preparation so astute and clear on something like Elisir d’amore are just that.

The only detracting thing about this performance was the quality of some of the voices themselves – some tendency to vocal hardness, strain around the break Campanella always made enterprise of finding a way in his accompaniment and for the singers themselves to find ways around it, and succeeded quite often at it. There were any combination of things – encouraging singers to give the rhythms in their vocal lines the bounce they need, to point the text with as much unforced wit as possible, and to caress the lines they sing and shapes within thereof. Of what I have heard this season from the U.S., there simply has been no opera better conducted than this one,

Nicole Cabell made the warm, almost sultry toned Adina. She tended to understate the sarcastic edge, the cold indifference to Nemorino, even some of the early flippancy of Adina in early scenes. Underlying her flirtatious character was a sense of there being a tug on the heartstrings – recognition of how deeply, even hopelessly in love with her Nemorino is. On the other hand, one may have sensed through Adina expressing herself in so much earnest to the audience, a lack of variety in accent, some blandness, but she stopped well short of making anything coy of Adina.

Enormous highlight of the entire performance was the Act 2 duet with Dulcamara, during which Cabell converted Adina’s enhanced concern for Nemorino at this point over much patter goading from the quack into equally joining forces with Dulcamara. His elixir is no match for her wiles toward eventually winning over a Nemorino who has started haughtily affecting that with elixir in hand there is nobody in the village to whom women are more attracted than he. Cabell’s very heartfelt “Prendii, per me sei libero”, even if mildly placed back vocally, was moving. Her command of long lines without taking a breath, subtle rubato infused therein, even if for some ends of phrases, Cabell does not lighten tone to fully desirable extent. Two very minor slips, in getting off cleanest releases for taking breaths during the at once rapid and long-lined cabaletta, were all that betrayed any more insecurity than mentioned already. Compensating for such was Cabell’s very warm low register and fine achievement of both agility across the range and generosity of spirit, so much with which she invested singing Adina.

Giuseppe Filianoti made his Lyric Opera of Chicago debut with Nemorino. His opening ‘Quanto e bello’ revealed a tenor unabashed in giving his lines much full-throated ardor, wile managing to avoid any too obvious strain, except perhaps on one optional high A toward the end of his first aria. For ‘”Una furtive lagrima”, he prudently eschewed attempting to achieve the sublime with this, with in mind first and foremost the simplicity of the aria’s popular origins – with just some hint of mezzo voce a la Alfredo Kraus for starting the second verse to it. It worked beautifully well for him and gave the obvious show-stopper its place within context of the entire comedy and very winningly so. Even if still spending a little too much of what vocal resources lie at his disposal, no effort of the kind unduly intervened on “Una furtive lagrima” this go at it.

What Filianoti had beforehand was the wit he put into so many scenes in-between the two arias – the rambunctious bounce he gave reprise of the chorus with his part in descant to them so early on. Also spot-on was his fulsome ecstasy in discovering the elixir, and insolence to others, as towards Belcore when things only seem to finally be going entirely his way. Filianoti pointed too the ease with which Nemorino can be so easily duped. He made a study in character acting here – requiring that he sing the part well - complete, not to mention very charming. His gently distraught ardor for “Ai perigli della guerra” – part of'Venti scudi' (duet with Belcore) that inspired Verdi’s writing of Gilda’s lines in quartet from Rigoletto, (as Gossett explained well) was most apt.

Gabriele Viviani also made fine casting as the haughty Belcore. With good command of line, he affected noble bearing well for his opening aria, “Come Paride vezzoso”, even the irony of it well. Just mostly to advantage, did Viviani revealwhat fulsomeness of voice he can command. Extra emphasis on bluster invited some strain, but the agility for runs and rapid patter, including in stern rebuttal to Nemorino’s entreaties Viviani clearly made known. Viviani commands a supple line, nuance thereof, especially when most relaxed - evident as Riccardo Forth throughout a Bologna Puritani seen here last year.

Nearly a week after the Puritani, courtesy of Rave and Emerging Pictures, Houston Grand Opera staged its Elisir d’amore, borrowed from Glyndebourne, starring Alessandro Corbelli as Dr. Dulcamara. By and large, let Corbelli be his own stage director, as Jack O’Brien (Met Trittico) and Giulio Chazzaletes have done, and out comes an artist entirely worthy of our trust. This Dulcamara was not only hilarious, but definitively revealed Corbelli’s love for both the part and the character. He even let on about chance of Dulcamara’s quackery catching up with him one day.

Corbelli made up for a little vocal stiffening that comes with age, with tremendous wit with the words. He commanded the stage here from first ‘Udite’ to both finish heralding his entrance and introduce his catalogue of wares and mostly elixirs with great aplomb. The awareness of all the highly varied whim and demand Dulcamara finds out on the street was acute, together with pointed parody of the clientele. Whatever trick might work with any of his clients, even if it is affecting amnesia, as with Adina, or befuddlement upon first meeting Nemorino (as though trying to keep pace with him) there was for us no mistaking it and no self-conscious underlining of the least bit. He even, upon reprise of ‘Io son ricco’ skipped a beat during the tune on purpose to affect catching himself saying something he should not, lest the cat get completely let out of the bag. Here was classic Corbelli, equal to any of the best he has given us in the past. With audience instead on or attentive to so much excess clutter, Corbelli too willingly took a back seat to it all, as he surmised what was demanded of him here in Houston. Such was our loss, but concerning Corbelli, all is definitely (forgotten and) forgiven now.

Guaranteeing that no number in this Elisir might seem least bit insignificant was Bruno Campanella on the podium. Take for instance the quasi-conspiratorial chorus (“Saria possible?’”) of girls, led by “Or Nemorino e milionario” that can so easily become so much marking of time. Between the very saucy Giannetta of Angela Mannino and Bruno Campanella’s highly attentive, but never obtrusive pointing of accents, it all instead turned out as much fun as all the rest of this very witty Elisir. Campanella’s leadership showed some awareness of ‘period’ in keeping string vibrato light, but without encrusting Donizetti with a level of tautology – of which it should never be in any need. While still keeping things a little subdued for it, he had the better shaping of ‘Adina, credimi’ during the finale to Act One than either Patrick Summers or Edoardo Muller. The animated passages that surrounded the moment of poignancy had all the air, lift, bounce, wit they ever needed. There was more detail heard throughout it all than we are most accustomed to hearing, not only for at times just Donizetti’s rhythms themselves – but for so very much that can infuse them with so much life.

The reading between the lines was also so complete, most of all in allowing deft space needed for his singers to make all of their words count – even at a few tempos mildly breezier than usual. All worked as though magically to the singers’ advantage. All backed off from contributing to a situation in which they might strain their voices. Much highly attentive rehearsal, sufficient time for such contributed so much – such that Campanella may have been denied months earlier in San Francisco; performance broadcast from that run did not lift spirits to the level this one did. All effervesced, bubbled here - even preceding excellent flute principal in the sinfonia - to extent as though no effort could have been put into it - indeed why to prepare Elisir so well.

Short work here can be made of the Tosca that followed. Andrew Davis’s conducting just about thoroughly missed it in line, sostenuto, and in sufficient necessary buildup, maintenance of dramatic tension. Past the dryly enunciated opening ‘trionfar’ on solo horn more color and nuance emerged for much of Act Three – taken less draggy overall than Act One. Even the dryly enunciated Scarpia chords opening Act One (with urbane manner for much of the rest of this Tosca) showed incomplete understanding of their import, even of the harmonic progression itself. Davis applied so much elision to in effect override scene of Scarpia’s murder that, as a result, he thoroughly deflated it. No, the heavy grind he made out of resuming the dirge that has moments before accompanied Scarpia’s writing of the safe-conduct did not help matters. Deborah Voigt could hardly be blamed for not knowing what to do with ‘Avanti a lui’, except to just do it by rote.

Deborah Voigt, in caressing so many lines, showed a very welcome feminine, even girlish vulnerability as Tosca that helped obscure some hollowness of midrange and wiry strain on top. It became a little too evident, however, during ‘Vissi d’arte’ a lack of grandeur of expression, but of course a very opposite way of playing the Roman diva has seldom worked well either. A little of such glibness carried over into Act Three, but not enough to ruin matters. The fear, anxiety in Voigt’s voice during tense moments with Scarpia rang true, especially as far as through the interrogation scene.

Vladimir Galuzin was out-and-out disastrous as Mario Cavaradossi – all thick bluster and little else, and even in effect, with as thick a wobble as he could let out, gave off ability to hit a good several pitches at once (at crest of 'Trionfar', for instance). It is such at which Buddhist monks in remote parts of Mongolia are adept - to depict varied states of nature, as host of PBS travelogue let us see probably the same Saturday afternoon this broadcast. First of two ‘Vittoria’s in Act Two wobbled out of control, followed by second one that seemed to get stuck on its second syllable. Number of sub-phrases Galuzin managed to sing softly could be counted on the fingers of one hand. There was little meaning to Cavaradossi’s defiance of Scarpia or of his circumstances, as so many lighter, more ardent passages contained the same bluster as well.

Garnett Bruce, for this restaging of the Met Zeffirelli production, spoke of the Russian pessimistic view of the final scene, regarding Cavaradossi, for Cavaradossi to be telling Tosca, ‘Don’t worry, honey. I will look good’ – in response to coaching of how to handle supposedly simulated situation at hand. One can not doubt Galuzin’s ability to look good, act well and have some feeling for Cavaradossi, but a much more relaxed approach to all this is necessary for any of it to come across vocally.

James Morris, seen soon thereafter as a disastrous Fiesco for Met revival of Simon Boccanegra, showed unerring command of the words and of even some of the gravitas of Scarpia, not to mention the to-be-feared aspects of this character. Voice was too dry to sustain well the legato for ‘Ella verra’, but he made much of the declamation in the Te Deum and of so many lines, playing off the vulnerable sounding Deborah Voigt, both in his Act One interview of Tosca and throughout the interrogation scene in Act Two.

Among supporting cast, John Easterlin (Spoletta), Paul Corona (Sciarrone) and sonorous jailer of Sam Handley distinguished themselves most, but weak Angelotti (Craig Irvin) and extra-buffo, vocally weak Dale Travis as the Sacristan less so. Angela Mannino made ideal a picture of boyish wistful innocence, as treble-toned Shepherd to help open Act Three.

HGO: Tchaikovsky Queen of Spades - Vladimir Galuzin (Hermann) - features very strong cast and chorus, but other facets weaker - 18.04.10

It is nearly thirty years now since Houston Grand Opera last put on Tchaikovsky’s Pique-Dame, in more traditional setting than now – our first Pique-Dame at the Wortham Center. HGO has brought in numerous good ingredients for success here, in terms of casting Vladimir Galuzin and Judith Forst (Countess), plus for leading parts, three very gifted young singers in their HGO debuts.

In spite of compromises, it is still thrilling to see Galuzin here as Hermann. He was the best Hermann around ten years ago – even with Gregorian, Domingo, and Heppner still around. Early on this past decade, Galuzin bought into temptation of pushing the chest voice through the passaggio that had me fear he would not keep most pitches above it much longer. Final line of the storm scene included the high B, very sinewy, but with still plenty of ring. It was enough alone to bring down the house. A few less challenging high notes later on however got stuck, not quite firmly landing on pitch. His leathery negotiation of the break continues to be worrisome. Hermann for Galuzin clearly is a very driven man - not as something to deliver on the surface, extroverty, but instead deeply from within. There were numerous times throughout suggestions here of the subtlety with which before Galuzin had come to grasp the psychological complexity of Hermann musically so very well.

Galuzin still proved yesterday able to sing softly, albeit less flexibly so than nine years ago, plus less often than he should. Natural darkening of his sound, with age, is expected. Bronze already in the tone before was certainly remindful of Vladimir Atlantov, but there was then better focus to the sound - leaner, more subtly flexible to respond to musical demands. Galuzin then too had a way of taking the introversion of singing Hermann even a step further then than I ever heard from the still estimably fine Atlantov. Dramatically, the well varied neurosis of Hermann, impassioned reach for Lisa, is still gripping today. The look in his eyes during confrontation with the Countess was most fearful - that is, with our inability to see well her face.

Tatiana Monogarova joined Galusin as a fetching, somewhat naïve Lisa. The utter girlishness of Lisa started to characterize Hermann - Galusin chasing her in and out amongst numerous choristers - as something suggesting a pederast. Whether or not on purpose, it put Hermann at risk of being two-dimensional villain instead of the complex anti-hero he really is . Tone quality started off cloudy for Monogarova in opening duet with Pauline; other than strain for several notes up high, everything opened out freely.

Monogarova’s lustrous tone abetted natural curvature of Lisa’s wide-ranging ador very capably and alluringy – even with still slight compromise to legato and slight occlusion around the break. She then came across only slightly heavy for Chloe during the pastourelle. She opted to play Lisa as having difficulty understanding Hermann and as lying tragically outside of abiity to grasp of real situation at hand. Such made for a very involving Lisa in every way.

Galina Gorchakova, less detailed an actress than Monogarova, had a more mature take on Lisa when paired with Galusin in St Petersburg years ago, portraying her as intuitively understanding situation vey well while very affectingly reaching out to Hermann in vain. Monogarova brings to Lisa and Tatiana as well acutely precise nuance in countenance and gesture that is also very compelling.

Icelandic baritone Tomas Tomasson was Tomsky, looking young as the rough-hewn soldier, though a little demurely on purpose toward maintaining good camaraderie with his buddies. A little introversion in acting Tomsky seemed slightly awkward from early on – something unfortunately to explain well later. An oaken, ruddy color to the sound fit close to perfect, with top to freely open out, conspicuously so for the ‘tri karty’ aria in Act One; a little hollowing out from lower end of midrange on down is worrisome though. Lustiness with Tomsky’s witty couplets in the final scene got compromised by excessively annoying nonsensical stage business Tomasson would have done better without.

Vassily Ladyuk was the charming Yeletsky, at least until making lout out of the prince during the final gambling scene, both contrary to the quality of Ladyuk’s voice - with stiff pointing of any irony in playing Yeletsky so unattractively. Before then, most everything went very well for him, with only minor compromise of legato while reaching low rduring his eloquently phrased Second Act romanza. Ladyuk has a very lyric voice, suitable for Mozart and other mostly lyric repertoire, and hopefully much lieder as well in the near future. Maria Markina was the equally lyric Pauline, and very sympathetically sang both her dolorous song in Act One and pastourelle mozartiana.

All HGO studio rank supporting cast members performed very capably, showing what considerable depth HGO still maintains this way. If there was any stand-out, it was Catherine Martin, after having made heavy going of Gianetta in Elixir recently. As Governess, she made scolding of the girls at Lisa's social gathering humorous and warmly inflected - holding everyone’s attention very well, except for all of Lisa’s friends on stage, all looking as though having heard her talk on what is ladylike and what is not too often before. Choral preparation by Richard Bado continued most resolute and dependable with highly supportive childrens’ chorus - notably incisive the boy captain of Phillip Bevers.

Though affected in how she trotted across stage more often than necessary, Judith Forst proved utter paragon of simplicity as the Countess. As successful as much other casting was, this was the one true thoroughly unqualified success for this. The weariness, crankiness, mysterious authority of her lines, infusion of nostalgia through the Gretry aria with which she informed the part put her in great company as close to definitive, barring having Regine Crespin show up instead. Oddly enough, due to a combination of reasons, we unfortunately had at the Wortham an audience impatient with so much music at quiet volume for twenty minutes - for one of the best two scenes in this, Tchaikovsky himself knew. One here had to listen attentively past much coughing, shuffling in one’s seats to be able to hear this scene at all. The Muscovite Venus’s vulnerability in having to face Hermann, half-naked, from a bathtub made for exciting theater - with Forst’s back to us. Here it was hard to argue that the Jones production lacked anything, even with soon before Forst’s feet dangling over foot of her bed while stiff sideways to sing the Gretry aria.

Richard Jones, represented from Welsh National Opera by Roy Rallo here, with Carlo Rizzi at musical helm, however seemed on the same page as Rizzi in one near-fatal way. That is contentment to streamline so much of what got invested in this, and leave it to intermittent insights what Pique-Dame is really about. Except in the most generic sense, there was little in the way of connectivity, except to depend on several fine singing actors to provide it. Good or consistently better than threadbare interest in maintaining strong narrative sense to Pique Dame was lacking. Much built-in contrast between scenes, sound worlds between the dark and sinister and for the intervening rococo pastiche got minimized, for cause of vague intellectualizing.

Carlo Rizzi showed propensity for keeping textures relatively clear, a sensibly forward moving pace through this, a good ache for the grand line on climactic pages, and for final scene, at the casino, ebullient incisiveness against much hard, amplified slamming against gaming table and floor during this scene. A little thinness in quality of the HGO orchestra worked against Rizzi undercutting the score’s dark colors numerous times; so did at times some amplification of voices, creating imbalance with the orchestra, especially at points where screen came down to end several scenes, cutting off most of the stage, to facilitate efficient scene changes. Rizzi was then partly responsible for what resulted in shallow aural perspective quite often.

Up until obvious storm, contrast between differing moods, activity of the summer garden scene got streamlined. A little greater intensity of focus where it should count for something did not quite emerge. The sense should be of Hermann’s perception of all going on about him - of as much we perceive Hermann can at least halfway grasp. The Dostoevskian character of this scene is a obvious to the best interpreters of Pique-Dame, but became thrown off here. Accents for grandiose opening of Act Two came across flaccid. Hint of expressionism in Tchaikovsky’s scoring of first three out of last four scenes got minimized, especially early on during Act Three.

‘Safety first’ in both keeping things constantly moving and ensemble together became password for the barracks scene. Rizzi also denied Monogarova sufficient shape to several particularly expressive lines as Lisa anticipates Hermann’s arrival alongside winter canal. The demonic, obsessive character of Hermann’s drive to get back to the gaming room got undercut by Rizzi’s streamlining of a repeated, insistent descending, rocking figure among lower winds. Not on Rizzi’s part alone, Pique-Dame seemed to stretch out longer than it actually did. It was in understating excessively sharp contrasts in character that this music could be left to meander and then occasionally lose clear sense of direction entirely.

The Richard Jones production features an abstract, expressionist set with stage rear adorned by panels to match. Boudoirs for Lisa and the Countess make it seem that aristocracy has seen better days - perhaps more likely to reflect the Soviet era, replacing different shades of dark gray with a drab green and white. Bed of Hermann and gaming table in Act Three were both steeply raked – with casino in abstract disarray. A panel through ceiling into box for all these scenes served as most likely a skylight, out of which can appear enough of Hermann first of all, then ominously the skeleton of the Countess later – latter symbolizing closing vise of death upon Hermann. Chorus appeared in good mostly black office attire, tending to move in row formation across the stage - most stilted in oval shaped scurrying reception lines for two festive choral passages in Act Two.

Mimetic hand motions, remindful of chorus in Pier’Alli's production of I Puritani at cinemas last fall, were common; especially tiresome was frequent entering and exiting of chorus on and off stage, as to blur line between reality and Hermann’s imagination. This became most distracting – chorus literally quickly jogging past – while Hermann enters embankment scene in Act Three. Individual characters would occasionally be doubled by an extra main character - often rival for attention or affections - walking in precise parallel step behind. Chorus was most effective cowering all about during approach of storm halfway through Act One. Lighting tended to be stark – especially on a silhouetted Hermann to open Act Two and on puppet show for the pastourelle, inoffensively but inertly commenting upon Hermann’s gambling fixation.
Some of all this was interesting, but mostly just to reveal a stylized manner with Queen of Spades. Seeing Lisa as constantly girlishly running, scurrying about, cowering backwards turned silly and banal. Monogarova had plenty of nuance on her own to contribute - and may have rescued her character alone. Skeleton of the Countess looked between redolent of Felix Murnau and of Graham Vick's production of Pique-Dame – perhaps as homage or tribute to what is also a mediocre production of this.

Where the staging really became a cop-out, following odd staging of Lisa’s suicide at ending (non-)embankment scene was the final scene. Tomsky and “his (new) rentboy” engaged for several minutes in messing around; competing then with Tomsky’s couplets was gyrating dance by ‘rent-boy’ accompanying following gambling chorus and to one-up Tomsky, so to speak. Tomsky on the prowl about Hermann’s body, sprawled out against the gambling table provided finishing touch upon new low for malodorous banality five minutes earlier - all lacking sufficient irony and/or suggestive power to have managed to say anything.

Such happening, that this is still Bible Belt to some extent, can so easily provide folks here proof text toward discouraging challenging productions here. We in fact, instead of getting what out there might be truly innovative or insightful, risk stuff that in a chic way cheaply poses as being modern, such as the Annabel Arden Elixir last fall here. This production, even with what intermittent flashes of insight it gave us, helped make Tchaikovsky’s narrative aimlessly meander. One expected more humor, irony in approaching Pique-Dame. Other than for schoolboy-ish Hermann scrambling across card table for the Countess (wearing floozey blonde wig) dealing out cards – humorous indeed – it never became forthcoming.

This Pique-Dame, regardless its accolades from the British press, made for an overall dull afternoon, especially in considering what price tag must accompany the name of Richard Jones. He is credited many years back with a deemed important but overrated Ring at Convent Garden conducted (and despised) by Bernard Haitink, English National Opera Lulu, Shakespearean Verdi at Glyndebourne conducted by Vladimir Jurowski and Munich Lohengrin.

Good for HGO to have picked up instead a Lev Dodin production of this from Paris (now out on dvd) - so darn cute, adorable a Chloe Galuzin is for the pastourelle you want to immediately take him home alone with you to have date any still unattached (or detached) daughter, sister, or niece of yours. The intermezzo (pastourelle) looks better than even what rustics in Midsummer Night’s Dream could have concocted. There is a such a fertile imagination at work here, with Galuzin an alternatively, foppishly cartoon-ish and neurotic Hermann - infused with accents he likely picked up from definitively playing Grishka in Rimsky Korsakov’s City of Kitezh back in the 1990’s. Vera Firsova, a great Ludmilla in Glinka’s opera fifty-plus years back – able to sing rings around Anna Netrebko - would have definitely very willingly stepped aside for Galuzin, could he have been Chloe back then. Such comparison had hardly ever occurred to me before.