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.

DiDonato's Fiery Furore

Few albums in recent times have I anticipated the arrival of more than Joyce DiDonato’s Furore – an album of Handel arias that should dispel the myth of baroque boredom for many. I’ve had to digest it before reviewing it, wanting to absorb its flavor, take a break and return to see how I felt on repeated hearings before just offering a rave. Having done so, here's the expected rave.

DiDonato is one of those artists who seem to have everything in the world going for her. A unique, sexy look (ever reminding me of the young Bette Midler), great sense of style (remember her Nancy Sinatra get-up as she hosted the Met's HD Orfeo offering.
From Teseo she offers Medea’s breathtaking yet oddly constructed “Dolce riposo” that, while a little quicker in tempo than I would have liked, manages still to convey the emotions of the title, the brisker tempo allowing for no singerly indulgences or unduly stretching the vocal line out of proportion. This offers a nice constrast a more rubato delivery of the interior recitative sections, returning to the da capo with a hushed intensity, embellishing the line with varying rates of vibrato and volume, the dispatch of perfect trills and a perfect Handelian line. As much as I love the virtuostic pieces (and boy do I), it is in these quieter, introspective numbers that Handel wows me every time and DiDonato knows exactly how to put these types of arias over.

Following the “Dolce riposo” comes one of those very virtuostic arias – the one, in fact, responsible for the title of this delightful disc.

Recently I’ve been involved in discussions about historical singers, e.g., Callas and Sutherland and singers capable of fully understanding the text, scratching deeper than its surface and working within the musical framework the composer has laid out, DiDonato makes abundantly clear she is perfectly in tune with this school. The voice is rich with color, like an accomplished jazz singer (and, I imagine, the great singers in Handel’s own time) she is unafraid to bend a note’s shape and pitch (while landing squarely on it – most of the time) vary the velocity of her vibrato – and when necessary, hold it back entirely. She will spread the vowels of a syllable almost to a level of vulgarity (listen to “Iris, hence away!”) that a more prim and proper singer wouldn’t dare imagine, yet in so doing, she infuses this very familiar music with an added frisson long missing from even the other outstanding interpretations we’ve heard over the years.

Her upper middle voice has a naturally rich, fruity quality which she also can color with skill – darkening it one bar and instantly lightening the sound to something resembling sunlight – all of which fits Handel’s music like the proverbial glove. I can think of no more perfect example of this than her work in the aria “Moriro ma vendicata” – the first piece in this remarkable recital which requires her to pull out all of the stops.

I’m asking for the moon here, but the only way I can think this album may have been improved is a pipe dream: Yet I’ll admit it freely here: Oh how I would have loved a “a multi-track recording of DiDonato singing both parts of the great Cornelia/Sesto duet.

I first fell in love with Miss Donato as Meg in the premiere performances (televised) of Adamo’s “Little Women.” I (and everyone else) recognized immediately this was a standout talent. It wasn’t long before Opera News did a feature on her and the candid, unconventionally pretty young mezzo sounded like one smart cookie. Two years later she took Paris by storm with her Rosina in Colline Serreau’s breathtaking “Barbiere” set (in of all places) Moorish Spain, revealing a young artist of supreme depth, innate comedic abilities, musical integrity, stage assuredness and genuine star quality. All of this is in abundance in this recording of Handelian masterpieces. All, you ask? Yes, all. Even the “stage” qualities come off in this recording. Rare is the artist who can sing a recital of arias, yet invoke the sense and spirit of the entire work she’s execerpting it from. DiDonato does this, evoking the personality of each character, distilling the essence of their entirety to miniature portraits that reveal each strength of character as well as each flaw. Lorraine Hunt Lieberson had this identical quality, but this is not to compare these two singers who in many other ways are as different as day from night.

Sorge nell ‘alma mia allows the singer her first genuine “I’m gonna tear the roof right off this place” moments of this recital – and it is, in a word, thrilling.

Another stand out gem, and one of my favorite mezzo arias, is There, in myrtle shades reclined. I’ve heard this aria sung many times and DiDonato (followed closely by von Otter) takes pride of place in melting my heart and causing me to swoon.

In her delivery of one of Handel’s most acclaimed arias, Ariodante’s “Scherza infida” DiDonato strikes as nearly a perfect balance between Handelian showmanship and introspective interpretation., as one is likely to hear. While the accompaniment by Christophe Rousset’s Les Talens Lyriques is outstanding in every moment of this recital, it is, here, flawless – at complete oneness with the singer, its ebbs and tides, flowing through Handel’s music with such delicacy as to be positively gauzelike. Every moment here is one of exquisite beauty.

I cannot ignore what is perhaps a representation of this singer’s most remarkable interpretation to date, her Dejanira from Hercules. The speed of the coloratura, the hurling out of sound, the seeming abandonment of all good senses in her approach may (and has) put off some more gentle listeners, but if you can just relax and let go, DiDonato will, take you on a roller coaster journey of the heart and mind offering a frightening and breathtaking look into Dejanira’s madness. It is, to be sure, rather an odd way to end a recital – but it is theatrical and thrilling and exactly the type of surprise we should be expecting from the delightful DiDonato.

Highly recommended. Make that VERY high recommended!