The Mission: Loyola - An Unearthed 18th Century Gem

Originally Published 16 October 2006

 

“The Mission:  San Ignacio De Loyola,” a recently discovered early 18th century opera by Dominico Zipoli and two collaborators was performed here in Portland tonight, and I, for one, couldn’t have been more thrilled. I was only informed today of the performance by a friend who’d seen it in Worcester,  last night, by the early music group: Ensemble Abendmusik with stage direction by Rev. Michael A. Zampelli, S.J., of the theatre department at the University of Santa Clara. 

The opera appears to have been a collaborative effort by the Italian Zipoli (a composer turned Jesuit who moved to the famous Jesuit Reductions in Paraguay), the Swiss-born composer Martin Schmid and one or possibly more of the native musicians from the Paraguayan rain forest. Written in two acts, the opera tells of the calling of St. Ignatius Loyola and his founding of the Jesuit order. Interestingly, it also attempts to explain – or at least delves into – the metaphysics of Ignatius’s famous “Exercitia Spiritualia.” You know I was all over that.  

Initially, as it began, I found myself mildly disappointed as the opera was not quite what I expected.  Once my expectations were let go of, I found the entire thing a genuinely lovely and moving experience. 

Two woman in modern dress served as interlocutors coming out from the audience and walking between the posed singers, making commentary on the action and telling of the relevance the tale has to modern audiences. 

Sopranist Randall Wong sang the role of Ignacio beautifully, handling the difficult coloratura in fine form and spinning some lovely, pure-sounding high notes. Initially he started off a bit raspy and underpowered but, as he went, on the performance grew into a moving, convincing portrayal of Ignacio. Mr. Wong moved sparingly, but each gesture was highly stylized and projected a certain nobility to them. His facial expressions were noble and earnest . . . one easily believed his devotion, his desire to serve and his love for his mission.

Romanian Countertenor Andrei Caracoti did double duty as The Second Angel and as the young Francis Xavier. His entrance (as the Angel) in a Spanish Warrior/Roman Centurion costume, accented with an ancient Peruvian style skirt and stockings, was enormously powerful. As petite as Mr. Wong was, Mr. Caracoti is a very tall drink indeed. I wondered if he'd been a GQ model as for the first 20 minutes he didn’t move or vary from his statuesque pose. I'm fairly certain he didn't even blink. 

The first Angel, soprano, Susan Consoli, on the other hand looked cherubic with a smile best described as comforting. 

Where Mr. Wong’s voice has more of a boy soprano timbre, at times very sweet in its purity, Mr. Caracoti has more of a female mezzo-soprano’s weight to his sound . . . and what an absolutely gorgeous sound it is. (The biographical information stated he began his studies in Bucharest as a bass-baritone, and transferred to Boston where his teachers decided to "make him a countertenor."  I've no idea what he might have sounded like as a baritone, and frankly, don't care.  I want to hear more of THIS voice.  

The musical highlight of the first act was referred to as a 3-way, or “triple aria” . . . what today we’d just call a trio . . . between Ignacio and the angels. It was absolutely dazzling, the three singers spinning off separate virtuosic lines, each tossing off runs and roulades with relish matching the joy of the music. 

In Act II Caracoti assumed the role of Francis Xavier and the scenes between Ignacio and Francis (which constitute most of the second act) were powerfully moving as the two best friends whose love for one another is clearly evident, prepared to part forever in order to further their unified cause. Like many baroque operas, the only "real" duet comes at the end, and is between Francis and Ignacio. 

Tenor Murray Kidd was a delightful and handsome little Devil. Dressed as Louis IV (nice touch) in stunning 18th century silk and curly wig and was THIS TALL. His was almost more of a pop sounding voice, yet somehow suited the baroque style well.  It was clear he relished singing the Spanish text which. emanating from his mouth, was highly sensual, as opposed to the pure, almost Latin-sounding Spanish of the other characters.

After the final duet and advice from the Interlocutors inviting us to draw our own conclusions, the First Angel sings a glorious aria with trumpet solo which smacked strongly of Scarlatti. Here, soprano Susan Consoli's bright, light voice matched the music's brilliance and sense of elation, during which all participants the devil included), returned for a final tableaux which strongly suggested how completely interrelated is EVERYTHING in our world is: good to evil, hope to despair and hate to love.

Ensemble Abendmusik was conducted from the harpsichord and organ by James David Christie. A particular delight was the constant playing of the theorbo and baroque guitar, complete with traditional Spanish hand slapping on the instrument. 

Not a bad way to spend an evening! 

'ORFEO: Hades and Heaven on Earth

 

After a two week hiatus from opera, I decided to return by going back to the beginning - or about as close as we can, so was delighted to discover a new production from Garsington Opera at Wormsley of Monteverdi's earliest surviving opera available on Operavision.

To call John Caird and Robert Jones' production "stunning" is an understatement.  The entirety of this "'Orfeo" is the very definition of gesamtkunstwerk and is one of the most perfect, most beautiful things I've ever seen on the screen.  I can only imagine the effect in the house must have been even more dazzling.  The visual elements are matched musically by the perfect period playing of Laurence Cummings and the English Concert.  The entirety is a joy to behold. 

One does not automatically think of gesamtkunstwerk or Wagner when considering early opera - or Italian opera generally, but Monteverdi's exquisite narrative flows seamlessly from scene-to-scene and moment-to-moment with a similarity that evokes Wagner in the very best zum raum wird heir die zeit (here time becomes space) manner.  

The Wormsley stage is surrounded by the orchestra with a magnificent playing area, transforming the bucolic countryside of Thrace into a sort of cross between the Elysian Fields and a jungle, leaves and vines and lush green grasses, all dominated by a floating ring serving as an important visual element throughout.  

Eschewing period-costumes, Mr. Jones has clad the entire company - orchestra, soloists, chorus and dancers - in era-defying frocks, trousers, and vests in whites and beiges, every one of them barefoot.  Each member of the company here is an integral link of the storytelling, dancing, singing, playing and moving across the space with a graceful fluidity so perfectly and beautifully wed to the score, it frequently took my breath away.

Aside from being beautiful to look at, the musical elements of this opera have rarely - in my experience at least (and I've heard and seen a lot of Orfei) been matched.  The closest experience I can think of is Trish Brown's equally brilliant (but wildly different) production for Simon Keenlyside.  Right now, I'm prone to calling this one "even better."  

The first 30 minutes of Orfeo may be among the most joyous in all of opera, remnding me again of Wagner and the final pages of Meistersinger, despite the entirely opposite sound worlds each composer creates and inhabits.

The heart and soul of every Orfeo is its hero, and in Ed Lyon, Garsington has produced perhaps the greatest I've seen.  Lyon has every Baroque vocal trick and tic in a formidable arsenal and his musicality is unempeachable.  Add to this the fact he is an actor of tremendous range, moves with a dancer's athleticism and you have a performance that is genuinely a tour de force, and goes straight to the heart.  After learning the tragic news of Eurydice, Lyon follows the narrative, "so grief stricken he cannot express his grief."  He kneels there for what seems an eternity, eyes staring out at us, unblinking and in disbelief as he imagines the horror of his beloved's demise.   

Another miracle of this production is the lighting design of Paul Pyant. The stunning light-filled ambiance of Act I does a 180 degree change in the dark, black, red, fiery dismal world of Hades, with Jones' costumes their physical match.  The boatman Caronte/Charon's vessel is made up of three woman surrounding him and the effect is disturbingly glorious. Frazer Scott's basso reaches the depths of the role and his being overtaken by Orfeo who begins his journey is pure magic.  

I could go on (and on) but suffice it to say, every element of this exquisite show is on the same level as what I've already described and the opera's brief two hours pass as if in a dream.  Diana Montague, Claire Lees, Laura Fleur, Zoe Drummond, Ossian Huskinsan, Lauren Joyann Morris and the rest of the singers, players and dancers each help create this beautiful world we are lucky to witness.

Following a rapturous ovation, with a nice touch having the singers turn their backs to the audiences and kneel before the orchestra as the players take their applause, there is a moment of silence, and, the singers standing in line, quietly and unaccompanied break into an almost otherworldly performance of Monteverdi's gorgeous madrigral Che dar più vi poss’io.  I cannot think of a more fitting way to end this perfect evening.  

Ercolo su'l Termodonte: Vivaldi Tackles Hercules

Despite some misgivings, I very much enjoyed getting to know Vivaldi's infrequently performed opera, but couldn't help but wish for a bit more in all areas of this production, musically, and dramatically. Sadly, a good bit of the singing was sub-par which is particularly disappointing when getting acquainted with a new score.

Zachary Stains meets with some pretty rough vocalism in his first bravura aria - the voice getting coarse and reedy in some of the lower passages and with some really smudgy coloratura to boot. (Note: I recently listened to Stains in the Christie led "Ulisse" - where he sounds like a different singer altogether.)

To his credit in what can't have been an easy task, Stains appears more natural and comfortable than I've ever encountered required to be naked for more than a split second. As most are by now aware, Stains is, save for a cape and a lion skin slung over his shoulder, completely nude for almost the entire opera. Physically, the kid has nothing to be ashamed of, great abs, strong legs and arms and physically, he makes a convincing Hercules.


Fortunately, his later arias are dispatched with far more attractive tone, with an unusual beauty to the upper mid range and higher notes, even though the role doesn't offer much opportunity for showy high notes). Similarly, the fierce coloratura he tackles in Act III poses less of a problem for him, though never completely at ease. Chalk it to warming up. He's a smart singer and knows how to make the most out of the recitatives and, along with his athletic physicality, brings an almost cardboard character very strongly to life presenting a most likable Hercules.

The most beautiful singing of the evening easily comes from Randall Scotting who doesn't (physically at least) resemble your "average" countertenor. Well built and solid, some early physical gestures seem a tad elaborate, for so strong a character, particularly from such a big guy. Once alone however, Scotting projects an easy, assured masculinity and his two big arias are dispatched stunningly, each absolutely swoon inducing, for fans of baroque opera. What makes them particularly enticing is his attractive timbre, with more of a rich contralto sound than most countertenors I have heard. Smooth and rich, Scotting moves through some of Vivaldi's most virtuoso writing with ease and exhibits a freedom that only comes from a genuine joy of singing. I look forward to hearing a lot more from him.

Mary-Ellen Nesi's Antiope wins top female honors, offering thrilling, hair raising singing and never letting her intensity flag for a moment, ending with her big aria before the curtain and bathed entirely in the blood red light of hell, giving us one of the best moments in the entire show.

A bit thin toned for my taste, Laura Cerchi's Martesia nonetheless hits all the comic aspects of the character just right.

As Alceste, Luca Dordello's singing was vocally inconsistent from start to finish; sometimes producing a lovely tone and other times pure, ear splitting acid. Inaccuracies abounded in the passagework making me believe coloratura is neither friend nor forte.

I liked the Italian countertenor Filippo Mineccia's Telemone. Not a big role, but makes something fun out of it, which is harder than it sounds.

Marina Bartoli had me at first, but then the voice sounded tired, offering up even more smudged fioriture and high notes of acid tone. She is lovely to look at, however, and she and Scotting make an attractive pair of lovers.

I've liked much of his work in the past, but John Pascoe's production and direction seems to have taken a "nymphs and shepherds" approach to something that needed more blood and gore, notwithstanding what is likely a record number of severed phalluse on any stage. In an interview, Pascoe admits to taking a lighter approach stating this is the closest thing to opera buffa Vivaldi composed. I think that approach was a mistake and it shows. The battle scenes lack any real sense of danger and the female's costumes had me wondering what if Star Trek of the 70's had mounted Walküre?

From the pit, Alan Curtis ignites a mostly sparking performance from th 20 or so members of Il Complesso Barocco, though it must be said, some tempi seemed a bit brusque, likely contributing to some of the sloppy singing during the opera's more bravura moments.

Overall, it's a worthwhile watch and listen and a nice break from the overly familiar.

p.

Bartoli Sacrificium: She Does it Again!

How does one even begin to review such an album as this? With the recording industry in basically a shambles, little attention paid to serious classical vocalists, this has been, so far, a year of remarkable releases for which this one goes to the top of a very distinguished pile.

Bartoli has crossed a line most unique here in sharing her magnificent obsession with the castrati of the Italian baroque. The very title of the album itself is awe inspiring and thought provoking. While the very notion of castration is abhorrent and screams against nature without it some of the most amazing, most beautiful music ever composed would have most likely never been composed. Sacrificium is about an apt a name for this project as there could possibly be.

Through 15 selections, Bartoli – brilliantly partnered by Il Giardino Armonico and Giovanni Antonini – takes us on a voyage – a journey of remarkable musicmaking that is exhilarating as it is exhausting, as joyous as it is tragic and as intellectually stimulating as it is emotional. We begin the journey an aria by the nearly forgotten Porpora, Come nave in mezzo all’onde, a virtuostic exercise that shows almost every baroque trick compacted into a whirlwind lasting just 4 minutes. Bartoli sails through with an energy that is matched by the spirited ensemble and what a thrill it is to hear brass instruments play with this kind of fierce “to the devil” kind of tone and energy. Thrilling seems too gentle a word for this kind of performance.

Immediately things settle back down to earth only to rise upwards again in an entirely different direction as Bartoli and the musicians offer an inspired reading of the prayer Profezie, di me diceste from Caldara’s “Sedecia.” The final line “Let the moment that ends my days bring everlasting peace,” captured with a sound that is both captivating and heartfelt. Bartoli shows us (again) that she can hold us, can dazzle us and move us with music of such quiet gentility every bit as she can with the coloratura showpieces. Her range in this music is never less than astonishing and while her top remains bright and tightly coiled, her singing from the lower voice has never been more attractive as can be heard in these slower arias.

Throughout this set Bartoli captures our imagination and spirit and instantly transports us back centuries going to one of the most exciting – and dangerous – eras in music history. Her trills, roulades, pinpoint accuracy, sense of line, attention to details both musical and textual reveal a commitment that is never less than total and what a supreme joy it is to spend time with this set. The album is fiercely and attractively packaged, its two CDs wedged on either side of 150+ pages of essays, notes, photographs both disturbing and stunning, including the 100 page “Castrato Compendium” – an alphabetically listed mini-encyclopedia of all things castrati.

Typically I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite moment from so extraordinary a set, but having now listened to it several times – at least for the time being – will nominate Porpora’s aria “”Parto, ti lascio o cara” from his 1732 opera “Germanico in Germania.” One of the slower paced arias (with a fierce, short-burst of a “B” section), it is as beautiful and perfectly sung a piece of music as I can ever recall hearing.

Lovers of baroque opera, of the beauty of the human voice as well as those fascinated by undiscovered musical treasures should all have good reason to rejoice. The sacrifice has been made, and we’re all the richer for it.

Rolando Villazon Sings Handel

I've waited until I've had more than just a few opportunities to listen to this recital full through before writing a review. I know we had some discussion on this BEFORE the album's release, but I can't recall seeing a review here yet. So, let the fur fly!

The majority of reviews and comments I've read have not been at all favorable - some even a bit scathing. This is something I can't quite comprehend as the more I listen, the more I've grown to love what Villazon does here. Some have called it a "throwback" to the "bad old days" of full voiced singers singing Handel as though it were Mozart, or worse, Mahler. I disagree and rather strongly. While it certainly sounds as it could be a different approach to Handel singing, , I find it to be more of a a "modern romantic tenor" bringing his own style and deploying it in a decidedly bravura approach that makes most of h is choices in this repertoire exciting and true to the spirit of the baroque.

The strongest criticisms seem to take issue with Villazon's somewhat over-the-top manner in delivering this material. That may be what I enjoy the most. Listen to the second track, the recitative to Grimoaldo's aria "Pastorello dun povero armento" or Serse's aria "Crude furie degl' orridi abissi" When has a tenor gone "there" so willingly, performing baroque music with this kind of abandon, not to mention intensity? This type of excess is oft considered "thrilling" when done by a female performer - indeed, Joyce diDonato in the same aria ("Crude furie") was praised to the rafters (and justly so!) for not only her bravura way with the fiery coloratura, but for the thousand different hues she hurled into the music, sinking her teeth into the meat of the text and almost spitting it out. But a tenor heard primarily in Verdi, Tchaikovsky and Puccini seems not to be able to make those same choices.

What's particularly interesting to me is the way Villazon and McCreesh move through this material in ways that are almost unexpected, but which make perfect sense. After having heard some thrilling - near gasp-inducing leaps and flourishes, something like "Ombra mai fu" feels almost pure and cleansing and the simple addition of a well-executed trill makes the scene "pop"with life that is almost rare in a number like this.

This is not to say everything is perfect on this disc, and sometimes the low tessitura (e.g., the central portion of "Scherza infida") can find our tenor getting a tad growly in music sitting a bit lower (even if only a note or two) than he's usually addressing. Still, we seem to be more forgiving when a soprano (or lyric mezzo) gets a bit gravelly on a low note. But, as heard in Villazon's "Scherza infida" there is a melting musicality thatmakes up (to these ears at least) for any shortcoming in the inability to sound perfect in every range.

Another thing I love about this recital is the freedom of the ornamentation employed. Villazon's trills, runs, appogiatura, grupetti, etc., come off with a natural ease and authoritythat would be the envy of a number of singers who sing almost nothing BUT baroque music!

Above all there is a sense of love and admiration for this music that comes shining through from start to finish. The level of musicmaking between Villazon, Paul McCreesh and the early instruments of the Gabrieli Players is never less than top drawer and all wed to a sense of joyousness and meaning which infuses every bar. Regardless of what one might think of his choices, I dare anyone to listen to, say, "Dopo notte atra e funesta"and not feel the thrilling connection between the performers and the music they're sharing.

Then there is the "dark" theatricality that permeats some numbers - with the tenor taking choices that can understandably be seen as controversial. The strangled whispers with which he ends Bajazet's emotional scene has been much commented upon - but you know what? I like it. Look at the text:

"My sight is already fading . . . death, I feel you! This horror is your punishment."

While I can understand purists cringing here, we can't know for certain such a "device" was not employed in Handel's time and here and now, singer (and maestro) seem to find it a valid way of interpreting this dark moment and pull it off with complete conviction.

If I've any disappointment it is in the way the recital ends - with St. John's two numbers from "La Resurrezione." This is not to say that they are not sung beautifully, or that Villazon is found wanting in the emotional intensity heard throughout the rest of the recital, but for my money they simply don't have the"oomph" to draw a disc like this to its conclusion. This, however is purely grousing on my part.

This disc will ever find its way into a widely accepted Handelian catalog, but I think those willing to go along for a wild ride, fueled by fury, passion, joy and total admiration of one of the greatest composers of any era,will find something very, very special here.