Opera Maine's Cinderella: Goodness Triumphs!

 

There is no doubt in my mind which opera is Rossini's greatest comedy: Il Barbiere di Siviglia often takes that prize, but for me La Cenerentola sings rings (or bracelets) around the more popular of the two masterpieces.  Last night in Merrill Auditorium, Dona D. Vaughn's sparkling new production for Opera Maine made Rossini's alternate title, Goodness Triumphs (La Bonta' in Trionfo) abundantly clear. 

With what appeared to be a nod to a sort of fairy tale noir, set and lighting designer Christopher Akerlind's created a series of backdrops that felt like a picture book fairytale wed to a Warner Bros. cartoon.  Diaphanous, almost transparent pinks and purples defined Don Magnifico's fading estate. The look was completed with an old-fashioned stove, and colorful stairway leading up to the unseen living quarters for Cinderella's cold-hearted, scheming stepfather and stepsisters. With a wink and a nod to the classic Disney classic film, Vaughn deployed human sized mice who hid and scurried about aiding in the scene changes. The effect was both hilarious, and enchanting.  Hilarious and enchanting is also the most accurate description of her entire production.

Blessed with a cast that I cannot imagine being bettered today, Vaughn created magic before our eyes. The intricacy of choreographed movement between the large cast and chorus was picture book perfect, the exquisite delineation of each character made the story pop with life. Recitatives came off like well written, witty scripts connecting arias, duets and ensembles with a life force, not something to get through until the next big tune.  The comedy was never overplayed, but with Rossini's champagne bubble score, felt and looked funnier than I can recall ever before - and this was perhaps my 20th Cenerentola. I cannot remember the last time I heard actual raucous belly laughs at the opera.  No, this was not the gentle comic tittering so often heard in the opera house but genuine, house ringing laughter. I would occasionally take my eye from the stage to look around the house and saw nothing but teeth from huge, open smiling mouths, and . . . yes, my heart kind of exploded seeing that kind of reaction from an entire audience. 

Few directors know how to move a chorus onstage as well as Vaughn, and she proved this yet again with this Cenerentola.  Each entrance of the Prince's chorus of servants - men of all sizes - paraded on, each identically bewigged, in pink stockings and classic 18th century livery. The effect was both regal and ridiculous and yet beautiful as well.     

 Everything about the production is memorable, but those many moments I will single out a favorite:  the Act One finale. The entire company is here displayed in gorgeous array, as the insanity of the score increases with its gurgles, dance-like bouncing, as it threatens to erupt into the chaos, the libretto describes:  are we confused? Dreaming? Is the earth quaking? The dizzying confusion grows in the pit as onstage, now plunged into blue strobing light effects, we watch these characters singers spin out of control; rising, falling, crashing into one another all while in perfect Rossinian symmetry and harmony.  When it finally stopped, the roar of cheers that rose from the entire house as the music was still hanging in the air, was instant and deafening.  

Also worth a mention: the Proud Mary style choreography for the famous sextet of Act Two.  Here, too, was more of the spirit of hilarity and yes, sweetness.

What can one say about the costumes of Milly Hiibel? Delightfully eye-popping, brilliant of color, at times almost architectural, they were a perfect visual match for this production, adding immeasurably to the entire effect.  The purple and green creations for Clorinda and Tisbe were over-the-top in elegance and ridiculousness, yet entirely beautiful.  Don Magnifico's pajamas then his preposterous fancy man ensemble was given an extra comic punch up by having a train on his coat trailing behind him in a design that would've made Floria Tosca jealous.  Brilliant. Likewise, Amanda Clark's hair and makeup designs worked in concert with Hiibel's costumes to make sure everything looked well . . . fabulous is the only word that will do. 

And now onto the singers.  What an extraordinary cast we were treated with last night: true bel canto artists who fearlessly navigated the intricacies, dangerously vertiginous coloratura of Rossini even adding fioritura that sounded as natural breathing.

I hate to doom a singer to a single role, but Hongni Wu could have a career singing nothing but Cenerentola. The beautiful Chinese mezzo had everything needed, vocally and every other way, at her disposal; expressive features, a voice with a big bright top, a girlishly warm middle voice, and an easy plunge into the lower register.  The speed and accuracy of her coloratura was never less than dazzling, even possessing an impeccable old-school trill that thrilled. There were subtle differences in her acting as well. The first time we hear Cinderella's opening, wistful ballad Una vola c'era un Re (There once was a king) it's plaintive . . . almost mournful, but when she repeats it in the second act, there is a change both vocally and visually, and it’s these subtle little details that stand out and make all the difference.  Ms. Wu was an absolute delight in every aspect of the role, and in Nacqui all' affanno ... Non piu mesta one of the composer's great razzle-dazzle ending scenas, she quite brought down the house. Once again, as at the first act curtain, the audience went wild with applause and cheering. Bonkers would not be inaccurate, as the ovation went on and on.

Her charming Prince was Jack Swanson who presented a classic handsome prince-in-disguise, and like his Cinderella, had the full arsenal of bel canto necessities – rapid fire technical agility, easily produced high notes, a genuine and all too rarely heard these days, head voice that had a brightness and clarity which helped define his character.  Si, ritrovarla io guiro, his bravura aria with chorus, was easily one of many highlights of the night.  

Bass Baritone, Patick Carfizzi was born for buffo characters like Don Magnifico, and his turn as the comically evil stepfather was never less than bel canto buffo perfection in both voice and character. Capturing the arrogance, and deliciously smarmy sense of entitlement, Carfizzi sang with relish and aplomb, clearly enjoying the great comic bits laid out for him, as he attempted to reign over the stage all while that crazy coat train trailed his every step.

It was a treat to have Opera Maine favorite, Robert Mellon back in town and owning every inch of Dandini. With actorly flair, Mellon relished his role as "Prince for a Day," taking to royalty as the proverbial duck to water.  The comic business devised for his duet with Don Magnifico (involving an ever moving and unavailable chair) had the house in stitches.  

Cenerentola's one serious role is the philosopher/teacher, Alidoro who in Rossini's hands is equal parts Gurnemanz and Fairy Godfather.  It is Alidoro who directs and dictates the shape of the story, and in William Guanbo Su we had one brought out the best of both of those qualities.  With his rich, beautiful basso Là del ciel nell’arcano profondo, flooded the house with a wave of warm sound filled with love and hope, and segued the tale into its first bit of magic, as glitter rained, sparkling down as descending from the heavens a gown for Cenerentola to attend the ball.  I normally don't approve of interrupting the music, but the effect was so special, so breathtakingly beautiful, one simply had to forgive the audience for breaking into applause.

Katherine Henly and Rachel Barg took on the comedy team of Clorinda and Tisbe with such delightful absurdity that they threatened to steal the show at every turn.  Indeed, stealing the show - and the prince - seemed to be their raison d'etre. Once again comic timing and vocal agility provided the backbone of these two gloriously daffy sisters.

Rossini's score is, like all great bel canto comedies, deceptive. On the surface we see and hear music of such delightful charm, bubbling away like freshly poured champagne, but the dirty little secret is: it's hard. Really hard.  With time and key signature changes, music that shifts from legato to staccato, melodies that begin with one instrument that flow into another, accelerandos and ritardandos that come and go without warning . . . it's all standard in the work of one of music's true geniuses. Then there is the balancing of voices against (or rather hopefully with) the orchestra, be it a solo, a duet or an ensemble with full chorus.

The ingredients required are many and holding the entire thing together last night was Maestro Israel Gursky, a man who clearly gets Rossini's magic and knows how to transfer it from the stage and pit directly to the audience. From the outset of the overture, through the dazzling finale, Maestro Gursky kept the Rossinian flame lit with just the right amount of everything: security, control were ever evident as they must be to keep the entire thing from collapsing or becoming a train wreck, but at the same time there was buoyancy and brightness to make it all come alive.  Indeed, it is always something of a joyous miracle to hear all of the intricate coloratura from the singers, particularly in ensembles, perfectly coalesced with the rapid passagework coming from the pit. 

While La Cenerentola was well attended, it was not sold out, and that is a pity. I want everyone I love to be able to see this.  As it so happens, there is one more chance, this coming Sunday afternoon.  If I were you, I wouldn't miss it for the world. 

Joyce DiDonato at Carnegie Hall

Thanks to this marvelous, sometimes frustrating technology, I was able to watch it live in real time on Medici TV, so while not quite the same as actually being there, it's the next best thing . . . and a very good thing, too.

Applying the theme "A Journey Through Venice," to the program, allowed the mezzo and her marvelous pianist David Zobel to examine a wide spectrum of music devoted to one of earth's most celebrated cities. Through the music of Vivaldi, Rossini, Hahn, Faure and
Michael Head, DiDonato revealed why she's one of today's most versatile and unique singers, approaching everything with a freshness and sense of wonderment that is infectious to the listener, drawing one in as though being gently pulled by a friend from a large party into a side room for one-on-one.

So fluidly did DiDonato move through the two gorgeous, elegant arias from Vivaldi's "Ercole su'l Termodonte," "Onde chiare che sussurrate" and "Amato ben," which opened the recital, revealing a precision and elegance smoothly seguing from the virtuosity of the first into the delicate intimacy of the second, and applying a hushed intensity to this music that was breathtaking.

Hot on the heels (after a bit of banter from the singer) came Fauré's delightful set Cinq mélodies 'de Venise, the first of which feels more like Poulenc or Debussy than one usually gets from this frequently introspective composer. With her quick vibrato and slight reedy quality, DiDonato sounds almost as though born to sing French music and hearing this entire set made me curious to hear what she might do with his Pénélope. Whether or not that happens, more Fauré, please, Joyce, it suits you like an elegant glove.

The first half of the recital closed, and the second half began with Rossini, a composer one frequently identifies with this singer, his outsized La regata veneziana contrasting nicely with Desdemona's Assisa al piè d’un salice ... Deh, calma. Again a single composer providing two sides of the same coin and an opportunity for this singer to color, bend and stretch - to play with the music - in a manner many singers seem incapable of, or uncomfortable in doing.

A bit more banter ensued as DiDonato described Michael Head's Three Songs of Venice, written for Dame Janet Baker, and still sounding mighty good from another singer in the here and now.



The crown (for me) of the recital was "Venezia" the "Venice" set of Reynaldo Hahn, long one of my favorite songwriters. They were, of course, glorious sounding, with DiDonato interrupting herself to describe how, if time allowed she'd enjoy being able to change into a costume for "Che peca!": "I would go into a white sleeveless t shirt that's about 20 years old . . . a couple stains and holes, because I would be that man who sits on his porch . . . over the canal, and I envision this song with the man whose had a lot of pasta in his life and he likes a bad cigar, and he's had it . . . and this is what he would sing about." DiDonato struck a swagger-ish pose and presented a sort of artificial huskiness and sprechstimme (built into the song) that was hilarious, and felt natural and it was clear who was having the most fun of the night.

After a warm ovation, and before presenting her two encores, Rossini's "Canzonetta spagnuola" DeCurtis great hit "Non ti scordar di me," both marvelously sung, DiDonato spoke from the heart:

"I know I'm a bit of a Pollyanna about this, but when you look at the world today and it can get a little discouraging at times . . .right? This is our teacher, right here . . . because here we are of different gender, different religion, different politics, different everything . . . and yet in this moment there is harmony and there is peace. This is our teacher, and our goal is to take this that we create here and go out. So that's why . . . and I hope I'm not lecturing you all, I just want to share with you how amazing it is that we get to do this."

Amen, sister.

The Classic Westminster Gold Album Covers

Armida at the Met: On Sirius

Well, while Chloe Sevigny, Maggie Gyllenhaal and other gliterry types may have been in the house, the focus at the Met last night was Rossini and opera's own glamor gal, Renee Fleming.

I don't understand those who call this opera "dull," as I've always found it to be a richly textured, highly theatrical work - perhaps a bit more Rossinian "bubble" than his other seria-type works but that (to me) is never a bad thing. Ms. Fleming did not have her best night last night, but it was hardly the disaster that some are calling it; one online poster said it was a complete disaster and that he'd never felt more embarassment for a singer than he did for Fleming last night. Must've been one of his first trips to the opera, or an even bigger "Pollyanna" than I'm supposed to be. The coloratura felt labored, a bit aspirated early on, but as she warmed up, more natural and the first act came off rather nicely by the time the curtain fell.

Act II sounded a bit more problematic from Renee and by "D'amore al dolce impero" I was fairly concerned about how she would fare about an hour from then. There were breathing and pacing problems, the coloratura did not feel at all right and more "squeezed" between the barlines than freely flowing through the measures, but she made it through. Oddly, while I often feel Fleming's emotional take on a role is a bit generic or glossed over, when she DOES inhabit a role, she does so fiercely and beautifully, (such as her Desdemona and Tatyana) and even when things were not always going perfectly last night, I nonetheless felt that SHE felt Armida very strongly. That counts for a lot to me.

The third act, however, may have been her best overall, and by the time of the final scene/rondo, Fleming had found her pacing and, letting it all out actually brought not only a passable Rossinian style, but genuine excitement and fireworks. I was holding my breath and could feel the tension and thrill in a "will she make it/won't she make it" way and she sure as hell made it! I'm betting future performances will find her even more relaxed into the role and finding her rhythm within it. I remember being a tad disappointed in the Pesaro recording (not all her fault), but having my entire world rocked when hearing the live broadcast of the OONY performance from Carnegie a bit later.

The Tenor Sextette assembled by the Met for this production did an outstanding job, particularly Messrs. Brownlee and Banks - two of my favorite Rossini tenors, today. Mr. Zapatta's voice isn't one I'm particularly attracted to, but I liked his work here. Mr. van Rensberg's vocalism has always been a bit "dry" for my taste, but again, I found him more on gracious ground here than I have previously so in Handel or Mozart. During the tenor trio in the final act I found it impossible to keep my face from hurting from too much smiling out of the sheer joy of the damned beautiful thing!

I don't get any of the complaints about Riccardo Frizza and the Met band making this "boring." I felt the score sparkled along beautifully and in a vivid, animated fashion that was paced just about perfectly. The ballet that some complained felt too long, simply breezed by over the airwaves. Bravo, Maestro! Of course I couldn't see the thing, but was surprised (why?) at the booing. I'd never tell someone not to boo if they feel so strongly about something, but these days it seems if some find something even mildly not to their liking, "booing" is the panacea. Wrong.

One thing I "felt" about the staging (and this is pure assumption, I understand) was that Ms. Zimmerman might have been playing it a bit safe. Having read descriptions, seen photographs and listened last night it all did feel a bit "pleasant" which, given the story, bothers me at least a wee bit. This is not a comedy but a wild tale of anger, lust, betrayal and loss jammed into an opera seria by a master: that wildness did not come across frequently enough for me, though it did do so beautifully (and thrillingly) in the finale).

Colbran the Muse: DiDonato the Goddess

Fierce is just about the only word I can come up with so bowled over have I been by listening to this new disc from Madama DiDonato (on Virgin Classics).

It opens like gangbusters with the spectacular rondo "D'amore al dolce impero" from Armida - a very impressive way to open this recital, every minute of which is thrillingly AND gorgeously sung. DiDonato hurls her voice through coloratura that will practically make your head spin - showing off a more dazzling range than one usually encounters in a mezzo. Then again, she seems to be almost channeling Colbran.

The selections from "La Donna del lago" remind me of another mezzo I loved in this music; the young von Stade, with DiDonato possibly earning the laurel wreath here. Of course 35 years ago when Flicka was singing this music Rossini scholarship and performance standards were not quite what they are now, and she was singing it live (in Dallas) with an opera house orchestra in that old barn and recorded by pirates. In 2009 Ms. DiDonato has it considerably better - but none of that would matter if she couldn't sing this stuff and sing it she does - most impressively - and with high notes, grupetti, wild and fierce (there's that word again) variations that pose not a single problem. Her upward scale work in the finale is just nuts!

Putting away the fireworks for a minute, DiDonato summons up ravishing tone and pours her heart into Maometto II's "Giusto ciel in tal periglio" - I've heard many versions of this aria, and DiDonato virtually matches the tragic pathos that Sills brought to this in her La Scala debut, and with a similar quality that's both sunny and sad. The entrance of the chorus - then her decorated line is gorgeous (and I didn't even miss the impossible high note (D#?) Sills tacks in that makes me swoon). I DO miss that Maometto doesn't include the gorgeous cabaletta that follows (which Sills is ridiculously great in).

It's fun to hear the "e cento trappole prima di cedere" music from "Una voca poca fa" pop up in the middle of Elisabetta regina d'Inghilterra's "Quanto è grato all'alma mia" (or was it vice versa?) and Joyce and Co. make it soar.

It's also great to hear a nice chunk of Otello (aided beautifully by Lawrence Brownlee) making me wish this opera were more popular than it ever got to become (thanks a lot, Verdi!). I'm thinking SOMEONE needs to mount a production of this for these two. Talk about a hit!

Eduardo Muller leads the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia forces in glorious, full blooded readings the orchestra playing as if to the manner born and the choristers, clearly inspired sing with the same infectious love for Rossini as their golden tressed collaborator.

I won't go into detail of every number here (you're welcome!) but the entire disc is so well conceived, so lovingly put together, the singer's phrasing, breath control and sense of drama is all so damned exciting it moves right to the top of this year's "favorites" pile!

ROSSINI'S SPARKLING LA PIETRA DEL PARAGONE

I’m almost embarrassed to say I only recently have gotten to really know this dazzling comedy by Rossini (having heard it once years ago in a performance with a young Jose Carerras) . But having watched this remarkable DVD, cannot possibly shout loudly enough from the mountaintops “Get this DVD!”

Truly, this is – hands down - the most innovative and imaginative staging of anything in my opera experience, to the point of it being positively revelatory. The production was designed and directed by Pierrick Sorin – a remarkable visual artist who fairly found his own medium combining film, optical illusion, and (according to the accompanying book) “optical theatres, a blend of ingenious self-invented contraptions and new technologies which enable him to appear in space, as if by magic, in the form of a little hologram among real objects.”

Sorin has done major work/exhibits for a number of galleries and some of the leading fashion houses. Still, having read all of that in no way prepared prepare me for what I was about to see. For this Chatelet production, Sorin created a television studio with a series of paneled screens above the actors heads. The “studio” is mostly bare and employs blue screen technology with the “sets” for the production on either side of the stage. The sets, such as they are, are dollhouse sized models, which onstage cameras project the images of onto the screens above. The singers move about the mostly bare stage interacting as they normally would, but their images are superimposed onto the screens above, placing them in amazing visually resplendent scenery and impossible situations.

As an example, the Count, appears singing on the burner of a stove – surrounded by flames only to – during the same aria – appear on a shelf in his refrigerator complete with icicle stalagmites. Others scenes involve several of the cast who actually appear to be swimming, diving, floating on rafts in a "real" pool. All of this is aided by a team of women clad in blue spandex bodysuits, including their heads and faces who, while visible on the stage are rendered completely invisible in the images on screen. This device is employed to create absolutely mind boggling and hilarious effects, such as the slow motion flipping of a pancake which later even appears to travel on its own through space to land on an upheld plate of its ravenous recipient clear across the kitchen.

The butler/chef later mixes cocktails with moves that rival those of the finest mixologists. A tennis tournament played with relish and slow motion during one of Rossini’s most delightful ensembles – all of this and much, much more to delight and dazzle the eye.

The entire proceedings were then filmed live at the Chatelet by film director Philippe Beziat, who judiciously moves HIS cameras up and down, dividing the action in what is at first a dizzying and slightly confusing experiment, but which – if you give it a few minutes – settles down and only serves to increase the champagne-like high you’ll derive from this exciting production.

None of this, of course, would matter a whit if not in the service a brilliantly constructed work – which, as it turns out, happened also to be the 20 year old Rossini’s first commission from La Scala. It’s inconceivable to me that this remarkable work has hardly been seen or heard in the last century, the recording in 1972 with Carreras, and in the 60’s an abridged version showed up at Glyndebourne – sung in German, and a few other places revived it, but not much more than that. Now, there is this vibrant, zany DVD – and another one about to be released next week of a separate production from Pesaro. (I'm anxiously awaiting its arrival!)

The opera itself is a masterpiece. It does not possess the depth of story as his most popular comedies, e.g., Cenerentola and Barbiere – and is, in fact more of an ensemble piece – more so even than Viaggio. It is absolutely jammed with delightful, inventive and masterful ensembles putting its cast of 9 into a variety of configurations. All of it is sung here by a young, good looking cast that would be difficult to improve upon. The plot – such as it is – involves a visit to the estate of a young, handsome Count desirous of marriage, but who is pursued by a trio of lovelies, who seem more interested in his fortune than him. Also visiting are several men friends, a poet, a newspaper arts critic, etc. and a houseful of servants. The melancholy Count devises a series of “tests” and we’re treated to the usual buffa traditions e.g., masked identities, including the count’s dressing up as a Turk and his main object of affection pretending to be a soldier, and his darling’s long lost twin.

It’s all laughable – which is precisely why it works! Bumping the action up to the 1950’s works splendidly and lays to rest any argument that every work must be first seen in its historical context to be appreciated. An Italian villa (and environs) in the 1950’s helps makes Rossini’s score sound as modern and fresh as if it had been composed last week. This is made all the more exciting by the absolutely thrilling playing of the Ensemble Matheus with Jean-Christophe Spinosi putting everyone through their paces – often at breakneck speeds that the talented cast has no trouble keeping up with, relishing even, the alacrity with which Spinosi leads them. Indeed, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a conductor ever having a better time at his job than young Maestro Spinosi whose excitement practically leaps from the podium. Hearing this score played by this original instrument ensemble only increases my desire to hear them in the entire Rossini oeuvre. The music tangibly crackles (and yes that’s what I mean!)

There are at least several numbers that should increase the concert repertoire and the fugue-like opening of Act II is one of the most creative things I think Rossini ever penned. Leading the cast is the handsome, smooth voiced basso Francois Lis (who looks like a singing Adrian Brody) and the diminutive contralto Sonia Prima. Adorable is the only way to describe Ms. Prima. A cross between the young Imogene Coca and Carol Burnett, she is a naturally hammy comedienne with a face of pure rubber, contorting her face from hilarious mugging to seductively cute in the blink of an eye, all the while hurling out Rossini’s nearly impossible cascades of notes in a variety of coloratura styles; sometimes with smoothness and élan, and other times more muscularly and aspirated – varying to suit the needs of the music. It is nothing less than a perfect performance. Mr. Lis is new to me and, save a small hurdle there and here, he is a delight. All are attired in stunning 50’s haute couture, including some really creative bathing suit ensembles for the poolside scene. The balance of the outstanding cast is: Jennifer Holloway, Laura Giordano, Jose Manuel Zapata, Joan Martin–Royo, Christian Senn and Filippo Polinelli – and what an delightful ensemble they make!

Rossini’s opera is an undiscovered delight and the Chatelet audience went – quite rightfully – mad with applause several times, the laughter from the visuals serving the master’s sparkling, infinitely inventive score. I only hope this charmer finds itself being produced stateside – and soon! Everything about this is first class, including the housing of the DVD(s). The opera is on a single disc (running a little over 2:40) with a separate disc including interviews. The discs are housed in a hardcover bound 116 page book loaded with production photos, plot synopsis, articles about the opera and Rossini, interviews with conductor, designer, and biographies of everyone involved (it weighs over a pound!).

The product is put out by naϊve label and is perhaps the most fun I never expected to have from a DVD! I cannot recommend this highly enough! Bravo, Bravissimo to all of the forces involved in recreating this "lost" masterpiece at the Chatelet!

p.