PORTopera's Tosca: One Sing-ular Sensation

On paper at least, Puccini’s Tosca seemed like an odd choice for an opera company to make its debut in the arena of “semi-staging” However, with imaginative use of space, intelligent (and detailed) direction, good costumes, a first rate orchestra, choruses and a cast of singers, the possibility exists of the experience being greater than the sum of its parts. Such was the case with PORTopera’s second go at Puccini’s classic potboiler.

With a 60+ piece orchestra taking pride of place on stage, only a narrow corridor of space toward the apron existed for the action to develop. A large wooden platform with a staircase leading to its top served, in the first act as the painter Mario Cavaradossi’s galley in Church of Sant’Andrea della Valle, (an enormous blank picture frame atop it), and in the second, as the parapet of the Castel St. Angelo for a changing of the guard, and the denouement of Tosca leaping to her death.

Challenged by the limited playing space, director, Dona D. Vaughn created an intimate Tosca that did not skimp on her customary excellence, her supernumeraries (scrub maid,, monk, Scarpia’s henchmen, et al.) enlivening and providing richly detailed action.

Vaughn wisely embraced, and enhanced, the comedic elements of the first act which came off with the lighthearted naturalness of musical comedy, particularly the marvelous work from Thomas Hammons' genuinely funny (and warmly curmudgeonly) Sacristan, the romantic interplay between Tosca and Mario, and the children’s entrance. The children's chorus was a delight and one could not help but smile as as the kids circled and danced around the old man. All of this worked, of course, to heighten the contrasting, darker, more chilling aspects of the tale and make them more deeply felt without the use of maudlin manipulation to which this opera frequently falls prey.

Adam Diegel, PORT’s excellent Pinkerton from several seasons ago, returned as an exuberant young Cavaradossi, his bright, enormously pingy tenor ringing out with amazing clarity over the orchestra. Despite Maestro Lord’s moving the score along, both of Mario’s arias elicited applause, particularly the tragic “E lucevan le stele,” which earned hearty cheers and bravos from the house, and his "Vittoria!" has rarely been more thrillingly sung in my lifetime.


Alexandra LoBianco made for a lovely, winning Tosca presenting a softer, more coquettish heroine than the sometimes jealous, woman-on-the-verge as she's so frequently presented. LoBianco offered a softer, more coquettish Tosca, a deliciously coy flirtatiousness tempering her jealous outbursts, making her vulnerable and her eventual harrowing predicament all the more wrenching. The first act duet with Mario garnered enough applause to nearly stop the action, and, I can state without hesitation, it's been many years since I've felt a certain "tingle" at the end of that scene.

Luxury casting was found in the Scarpia of James Morris, whose voice, while showing signs of age, has Scarpia imprinted all over it. I wasn't the only one who wondered why he, alone, was in a modern tuxedo (I'm imagining a minor costume controversy may have been involved here) but the fact is he could've been donned in overalls or pajamas and one still was going to believe THIS was Scarpia. The self-important piety with which he entered, literally stopped the show in St. Andrea's. Alternating between subtlety and villainy Morris created a Scarpia who one sensed always got his way, his man . . . and his woman. Until Tosca.

Mario's execution was made all the more gruesome by the addition of a coup de grâce, stopped at the last minute, the effect of which made the moment all the more chilling and, perhaps for the first time, made me wonder if the boy might actually get up and flee with Tosca. The ensuing moments of chaos worked beautifully (how nice to hear the vocal parts here, almost always eliminated by the Met and other companies) as Tosca is hunted and chased down before taking opera's most famous leap (LoBianco's "O Scarpia avanti a Dio" by the way, was positively thrilling).

Over thirty years after I (a then a chorister) sang a tour of Boheme with him, it was an absolute joy to see and hear Thomas Hammons as the Sacristan, still potent of voice and ever the actor. Robert Mellon (Angelotti), Lucas Levy (Spoletta), Josh Quinn (Sciarrone) and Carina Di Gianfilippo (The Shepherd) all offered splendid contributions to the evening's proceedings.

Maestro Stephen Lord's work with the PORT orchestra and choruses was exemplary, presenting Puccini's score as full-throttled and rousing as one could hope for, leading principals for whom he rarely hold to hold back or do much adjusting of volume for.

On paper, this may have read as a "semi-staged" production, but for a packed house at Merrill Auditorium, it was a Tosca for the ages.

Magnificent Götterdämmerung

I had to miss Act III, but listened to it this morning and remain entirely overwhelmed by the experience.

Hans Peter Konig thrilled me as Hagan, his "Hei ho" bit having nearly the same snappy, snarl and oily blackness of Matti Salminen who (for me) remains the greatest interpreter of the role in my experience. Just marvelous.

I really (really) liked Jay Hunter Morris, but still feel he was nearly "too pooped to pop" in Act III, and yet his intensity and natural feel for the role won me over. I get a sense he will learn to better pace his Siegfried and be terrific in the role in the future. I really hope I'm right!

Debbie . . . Debbie had me in tears during the Immolation Scene. Maybe it's lack of sleep on my part, but I was electrified throughout and, while, at several moments, I may have wished for more of a way with the words (though very few moments, actually), and a less curdly-note here and there,Voigt's feel of the role overwhelmed me. Magnificent. I think she shocked the pants off rather a lot of naysayers and predictors of doom. Brava, Madam Voigt, brava!

Maestro Luisi's handling of the entire act (and the entire evening) was propulsive in a way that recalled, for me, Boulez in Bayreuth. While some may complain about the "excessive" speed of the final 20 or so minutes, I found this to be one of the most riveting, thrilling (jaw dropping, in fact) finales in my entire "Ring" experience. Wagner's amazing score truly SOUNDED like water with the aural equivalent of waves and swirls, rapids and falls violently tumbling across the earth. It was shaped so perfectly I am still sitting here, entirely amazed, but the opposite of numb. Before anyone takes sniper shots at me and labels me a heathen, idiot (or worse), let me answer: YES, I've heard, and am a fan of, Furtwangler, Knappertsbusch, Böhm, et al., but this was a unique, wonderful (modern?) reading (despite some blemishes from the band I expect will smooth themselves out over time) that held me as if spellbound.

By the end, I was completely overwhelmed and loved hearing the audience response and the nearly deafening ovations. That made the horrible booing for LePage and Co., all the more horrifying. I really didn't expect it and could not believe the bloodlust of the booing. That it continued straight through,through the rest of the ovation (save the final individual bows - but returned) made me a bit sick. While it may have failed to live up to the expectation and hype, could this have been THAT horrible a production to deserve such a violent interruption to an otherwise emotionally satisfying evening? All I could think, was, "what ill-bred monsters these booers be". I must say, listening to it over the airwaves (ether?) I was startled Margaret and Will didn't mention the booing during their post-performance narrative.

I'm going to listen to the finale again . . . but will stop just short of Maestro Luisi's bow! What a thrilling, wonderful performance and I envy those who were in the house. Bravo a tutti to the Met, Maestro Luisi, the cast . . . and most of all,
to that ol' devil, Wagner!

p.

Final Schenk Walkure Morris and Wotan's Farewell

Listening over Sirius, there were moments early on in Act II when I thought Morris simply would not make it all the way through – the voice sounding at times tired, the vibrato thickening and widening and some notes revealing that bit of a wobble none of us wants to admit to hearing. And there was some cracking. And yet, the manner in which he painted the text, the way he phrased and shaped this music eliminated ANY fear or notion of failure I’d held for him. By "Wotan’s Farewell" Morris had me forgetting I wasn’t even AT the Met. I was so completely involved, and so moved I didn’t know if I’d make it through to the end dry-eyed. I did not.

I wondered how I'd feel in the morning, but in the morning afterglow I can admit the following: I don’t believe I’ve ever heard Wotan's Farewell sung more tenderly, more lovingly - or more beautifully than last night’s singing of it by Mr. Morris. He caressed the line with this almost ineffable sweetness revealing all the emotion in this remarkable scene but with an extra "something" that seemed like an embracement of the occasion itself. You could hear him slowing things down, with Levine allowing it . . . guiding it all. Here, too, was this exaggerated yet entirely genuine feeling lingering over parts of the text . . . a hanging on to of word endings one into the next, as if never wanting to let them go. We can talk about the greats, talk about the golden age Wotans of yore – Morris, for me, is in that company. This was golden age singing, speaking to and engaging the brain and spirit every bit as much as the ear.

I know a lot of folks complain about Linda Watson, but I thoroughly enjoyed (most of) her performance last night. She has a sort of unrefined, rawness about her sound – a wildness, if you will – that I simply love in this music. The vibrato can be wide and sound like it’s spinning out of control, and yet I find her singing exciting; fully engaged and attuned to Brunhilde’s situation(s).
Pape was, predictably, a formidable Hunding. I love that such a major star was at the Met this season singing the "minor roles" of Hunding and Fasolt. Luxury casting, perhaps, but no less than what these roles call for and Pape delivered both to us in spades. I definitely hear Wotan in this voice.

Kudos too, to Gary Lehmann who has become one of the Met’s Wagnerian "Go To Guys" over the past two seasons. Last night he stepped in as a mid-act replacement for Domingo who, after Wintersturme could not continue the performance (and here’s to hoping Placido’s on the mend). Lehmann did yeoman’s work last night and I sincerely hope the Met realizes what they have in him and assure themselves some future "ass savings" by offering him something besides cover work.

I was especially moved at the end by Morris’s solo curtain. It went on seemingly forever. I loved that Levine brought Morris out by himself for a penultimate ovation before leading the entire cast back out and doing a rare "crossing of the stage."

The first intermission interview with Albert Dohmen was one of the very best of the entire season. What a charming, intelligent, astutely observant and fascinating man this is – and what a splendid Wotan he was last week.

This was a special night, a special broadcast and I found myself even more moved than I usually am during Walkure. Looking forward to tomorrow night’s Siegfried and Morris’s last go at The Wanderer.

I've not been able to attend a single Ring opera this season but, thanks to Sirius, I've been able to catch most of them and what a gloriouso cycle this has been!