Don Carlos: As It Should Be (mostly)

Verdi: Don Carlos
Theatre du Chatelet
Antonio Pappano, Conductor/Luc Bondy, Director
Roberto Alagna, Karita Mattila, Jose van Dam, Thomas Hampson, Waltraud Meier

Pappano leads an almost achingly beautiful effort from his soloists and the Chatelet orchestra and chorus. Perhaps my favorite Verdi opera, this is also regarded as one of his most unusual and problematic scores - often sounding simultaneously traditional yet somehow remarkably modern for its time. Pappano brings out all of these elements and his pacing of the entire long evening is beautiful, near perfection never once feeling either dragged out or rushed.

I've had ups and downs in my listening experiences with Roberto Alagna, but here, vocally and dramatically he perfectly captures every nuance, and every heartbreaking weakness of this character, taking a weak, problematic "starring role" and somehow turning him into Hamlet. It doesn't hurt that he is in astonishingly beautiful voice, his tone ringing and with a remarkable sheen. His ability to shade the voice in a variety of colors and dynamics made this an uniquely individual portrayal. He is not the "hero" Don Carlos some old-timers may wish for, but I hold this role to be almost the antithesis of heroic.

The production is simple effectively emphasizing the story telling and Verdi's music. Clearly well rehearsed, Luc Bondy's production has not a false note throughout its considerable length, every detail, every movement flowing with a rare and natural ease. In Gilles Aillaud's sets, Moidele Bickel's costumes and Vincio Cheli's beautiful lighting, every frame looks like a Murillo or El Greco masterpiece coming to life. Two particularly arresting images stand out in the St. Just scene; the first, just before the the entrance of Philip and Elisabeth - Carlos accepts Posa's request to return with him to Flanders, as Carlos kneels, Posa rests his head Carlos's shoulder. The second such moment follows the King and Queen's procession; Carlos extends his right arm out towards the now offstage couple as Posa grabs his other arm preventing his friend from following; creating a canvas of tortured angles: all arms, necks, heads, legs, backs, walls and shadows - all transformed into a tragic tableau of pain and comfort rejected.

The Fontainebleau scene (the opening cut a bit) is remarkably done and should convince any naysayers that it must be included to make the rest of this difficult work make true sense. In a barren forest of white birch, Carlos and Elisabeth draped in deep crimson, become as a single heart beating in this forest of death. Karita Mattila brings a dramatic quality that I've never before encountered in this role; at first coltish, tom-boyish, as Carlos lights the fire in the woods. Then, as he mentions that she will marry the son of Philip, becoming girlishly nervous. In only a few moments she establishes a bewitching and compelling character. In true princess manner, this Elisabeth is slightly vague yet clear she is smitten by and flirts with Carlos, her outward strength a facade - clearly a girl raised at court, aware she is but a pawn and dutifully plays the part she's given. At the news Elisabeth is to marry Philip instead of Carlos , the young lovers are crushed as the chorus, in ghostly white, enters singing her praises, lifting her into the air, placing her on a white horse and led away, knowing she is not leaving behind not only home and family, but any dream or hope of happiness as all turn away from Carlos who, alone, falls onto a rock, utterly destroyed. "Destiny has shattered my dreams." Having seen the Fontainebleau scene scene so staged I can't imagine its being left out of any production again.

Throughout this production Bondy and Pappano have encouraged their singers to live these roles and the electricity between all of the characters is stunning. Here is a theatre director who understands opera, and makes enormous use of music's ability to expand emotions in a unique way. Another example of his vision is the sheer physicality of the scene between Carlos and Elisabeth outside of the convent which takes on a desperate, violent quality that is, to say the least, startling to experience in an opera house.

As Rodrigue, Thomas Hampson gives what one of the best performances of his career. Combining humility, loyalty, compassion, pride and a sense of justice, his Posa is remarkably complex, and by far one of the most interesting good guys in all of Verdi. The voice is never big, but rich, well controlled and his sense of phrasing and attention to detail nothing short of remarkable. He also has a wicked good trill. At times, especially in his big scene with Philip, Hampson's voice seems to take on a tenorial quality - a remarkably lyrical Rodrigue, but with a sure sense of strength of purpose.

Mr. Van Dam's Philip is firm of tone, every word distinct, filled with meaning. The role, at times lies a bit low for him, but for the most part fits him like the proverbial glove. I have always want to despise Philip, but Bondy and Van Dam have made him more pathetic, a mere pawn of the Inquisitor, and Van Dam pulls off this vulnerability without once
sacrificing the strength of his character. A most complex, interesting characterization.

Waltraut Meier couldn't have been anybody's idea of an ideal Eboli, yet, she inhabits the character so fully turns in a magnificent performance, and looks damned stunning in doing so. Her vocalism in the Veil Song was kind of bizarre - it had a "warble" like quality that made it difficult to tell just what pitch she was actually on, yet she was beguiling and pulled it off. Once that was out of the way, everything else came from strength. I do wish that this mezzo would cultivate some chest voice. Her low notes seem to be her weakest and they sound exactly (except nearly inaudible) as her middle voice.

As Elisabeth, Mattila is, quite simply, a wonder. A voice capable of so many colors while retaining a unifying, individual sound. Having previously heard her in so much of her native music and Mozart, it's a tough voice to categorize, capable of riding the orchestra and cutting through it with laser like clarity, yet retaining a youthful sweetness most unusual to the typically "steely" type of voice we associate with that type of singing. Her sustained, high piano singing is nearly miraculous, a thin thread of sound perfectly placed, as clean as can be imagined then producing an effect that sounds as sensuous as silm gauze feels (two examples: her farewell to her lady-in-waiting, and reminding Carlos she is now his mother). It's all sung piano, yet she makes these moments sound entirely different. This is singing rare and refined. And remarkable. Every movement, gesture and sound came directly from this Elisabeth straight into my heart.


With the least amount of stage time, Eric Halfvarson's twisted, crippled Grand Inquisitor truly becomes a dominant central figure; the very physical embodiment of evil setting a tale of corruption, politics and religion already near chaos and spinning it completely out of control.

Nearly every scene in this long work is filled with heartbreaking magic and beauty, making it difficult to single out one scene in particular as standing out from the rest, though Posa's death perhaps takes place of honor in an evening filled with memorable music making and drama.

As one would imagine, the Chatelet audience responds with a thunderous and extended ovation, making me wish, even more, I'd been there.

Schubert's Fierrabras. Another Unjustly Neglected Singspiel

There is so much wonderful music in Fierrabras, listening to it one can only wonder why it is seldom, if ever heard.
Sadly, this may be one of the classic cases of a libretto doing in a musical composition of exquisite beauty. I myself have not a single problem with the libretto being a little far-reaching. It is often dismissed as being melodramatic, but personally I’ve never had a problem with operas being melodramatic for that is exactly what they’re supposed to be.

Having said that, let me try to relay Fierrabras’s plot, which exposes a veritable hotbed of ideas covering just about everything: religion, war, strife, freedom, imprisonment, enemy battles, betrayal, loyalty and love all taking place in the time and court of King Charlemagne. Florinda, daughter of the Moor Prince Boland is in love with Roland. Boland’s son, Fierrabras is in love with Charlemagne’s daughter, Emma. Emma, in turn, has the hots for the tenor, er, I mean Eginhard (well, he IS a tenor!).

There is war between the Franks and the Moors, the Franks win and Roland takes Fierrabras as his prisoner. Meanwhile, the Moors successfully capture Eginhad and Roland, who are then condemned to death. Florinda plots to free the Frankish prisoners, but only Eginhard (whom Emma is in love with) makes it out. Fierrabras returns with reinforcements and they free their comrades. Charlemagne and Boland declare peace and everyone pairs off, save Fierrabras, who, having lost Emma, remains alone.

There are two recordings I know of, both taken from live performances. The first, available on Myoto is a concert performance with the incomparable Fritz Wunderlich in the role Eginhard, and exquisitely conducted by Hans Müller-Kray. I know little about the rest of the cast, but it is, for the most part, expertly sung and, considering it’s being live and recorded in the 50’s, has mostly excellent sound.

The other is taken from a glorious live performance (an actual staging) with Abbado conducting the Schoenberg Choir and the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. With the exception of Wunderlich, the cast, in my opinion, could not be improved upon: Josef Protschka, Karita Mattila, Cheryl Studer, Thomas Hampson, Robert Gambill, Robert Holl with some outstanding lesser known singers in smaller roles. Like Müller-Kray, Abbado wants for nothing in expressivity, nuance and paying attention to details. Neither recording includes the dialogue.

Fierrabras’s score posseses some thrilling, over-the-top arias such as “Die Brust, Gebeugt Von Sorgen.” In the Abbado recording this is sung by Cheryl Studer with such rapt, breathlessness that its urgency jumps out of the speakers, taking one by surprise. As remarkable as the melodic line is, Schubert’s orchestrations here and everywhere throughout the opera could serve as a textbook of operatic orchestral writing with spectacular integrations of vocal underscoring/voice doubling as well as independent movement and almost visual imagery created through his instrumentation. It’s quite amazing stuff.

For my money, even more wonderful than the arias are the numerous ensembles and choruses, such as the duet “O Mog' Auf Froher Hoffnung Schwingen” or the ensemble and chorus “Der Landestochter Fromme Pflichten” each breathtaking in its beauty. In the latter Schubert takes a melody, almost folk like in its simplicity, then weaves it into an orchestral tapestry of almost bucolic bliss, strongly recalling Beethoven. Indeed, I believe much of the music of Fierrabras shows Beethoven’s influence on Schubert – not a bad thing, in my opinion. (My opinion also is that Schubert and Beethoven should have given us a lot more opera than they did.)

Another gorgeous duet, “Selbst An Des Grabes Rande” has an infectious waltz quality which Studer and Hampson perfectly capture with an almost Viennese lilt – then the men’s chorus enters and the whole affair will almost make
you forget The Merry Widow!

While some may say Fierrabras isn’t inspired I’ll disagree strongly. It is a nearly perfect example of Singspiel which I wish would have more of a presence in today’s world of opera.

Fleming Hits the Heights as Thais

I listened to prima of Massenet's Thais from the Metropolitan Opera last night and can only say I absolutely loved it. I’m a Massenet freak and have always felt Thais gets short shrift by critics - but audiences seem to love it, and I'm happy to see it being brought out a little more frequently than in the past. I am in love with Massenet's score, the story and there are moments of Thais that number in my “all time favorite” moments in opera. I know there are still criticisms of the “orientalism” elements of the score, but I adore even those. The opening music of the first Alexandria scene is so evocative of not just the time and place of the story (though, I admit not particularly ancient Egyptian sounding) but also of the period in which it was composed.

I've always liked Lopez-Cobos’s way with French music in general, and Massenet, in particular. His Manon a few seasons ago garnered some great reviews – and last night, I thought he did fine work as well (though I heard a couple of timing gaffs in the strings toward the end). Renee Fleming was, in a word: incredible. There was cream, velvet and, when necessary (and once or twice when not) a little steel. I’ve heard some criticism of the opening aria, but I felt it was sensational and really did have that “time standing still” element that the very best Thais’ (like there are so many of those!) can and do.

The voice sounds in absolutely incredible shape for a diva with 50 right around the corner – there are 30 year old singers just coming out who wish they could sound this fresh. The trademark pianissimi, floated tones and other tricks of the trade are shown off better in this role than 30 more popular operas I can immediately think of, and Fleming nailed nearly every one of those moments last night. The photos I saw of the production are fantastic, Renee looking impossibly glamorous . . . very nice!

The big bedroom scene leading into the Meditation was performed by everyone sounding and playing as though they were on fire! It was smoking hot and even Tommy Hampson who I admit can sound a bit fussy at times, was cutting loose and letting sparks fly, right up until Thais’ pronouncement/rejection “ Non je reste Thaïs! Thaïs! la courtisane!” where Fleming went (properly) mildly insane before cackling out her laugh and falling into sobs. This moment – that bridge to the Meditation –slays me, absolutely slays me every time. People make fun of this music at times and perhaps I don’t have a good perspective: I first heard this score when I was about 14 years old and thought it was “cool” – so it’s been locked in my heart pretty much since childhood.

The Desert Song . . . er Desert scene was marvelous with Fleming actually sounding as though experiencing a post-epiphany peace, and Hampson somehow conveyed (beautifully) sexual frustration through his sound. Again, I felt the orchestra took off in that marvelous storm music leading into the final scene. I have not seen (yet!) this production, but enjoyed the description of it that Thais is already dead, seated on an altar surrounded by flowers and candles, and doesn’t directly address Athanael during the final duet. And that duet is one of my favorite endings in all of opera – but it’s a voice buster. Massenet’s girl must wail pretty much in all registers, on that ascending four-note phrase that keeps descending in each repeat until she’s showing off her chest(!) – covering several extremes of the range in a handful of bars of music.

Unfortunately Fleming is only human and the top phrases sounded forced as if she were out of steam and willing the notes to be there. They still came off with a good deal of excitement, but not without noticeable effort. I worried that the final phrase “Ah! le ciel! Je voix... Dieu!” wouldn’t have the float necessary, but I that fear was unfounded, Fleming (with just the right amount of breathlessness and shimmer) floated it perfectly, leading into Hampson’s pathetic howl of heartbreak.

A friend wrote last night he thought Hampson was devoid of passion or involvement – I responded “he sounded like he was spitting blood” in the final scene. I listened again to the final duet three more times late last night and I’m sticking to my guns on this one!

How cool that when the curtains opened for the second time, Concertmaster David Chan was standing solo onstage to take a bow for his beautiful playing of the Meditation (and other moments).

And now, a couple of odd observations. Mary Jo Heath commented how when Meditation theme returns “this time it’s with a flute instead of violin.” Not in the score and not what we heard. Later she wondered how many chorus members were there when Thais was last performed 30 years ago, prompting William Berger to comment how the ’78 Met Thais was “a concert performance.” Wrong again. Who scripts for the hosts? It can’t be difficult to check facts in the archives. This ain’t the first time wrong info has come over the Sirius wire. That aside, it was a marvelous night for the Fleming, Hampson, Lopez-Cobos and the Met.

I can’t wait for the HD presentation which should be settled even better by the 20th!

Thomas Hampson IS Doktor Faust

Phew, what an exhausting, numbing, emotional experience this was. The production is not without problems, but Hampson’s performance more than compensates for anything that might hinder one’s enjoyment and appreciation for this reading. This may in fact be the finest work I’ve seen from him - and knowing his propensity for analyzing and reading between the lines, Busoni’s enigmatic, difficult task put out before him is precisely the type of challenge Hampson seems to revel in. He is intense, his world weary, exhausted of life beginning morphing into this superhuman persona that burns himself out trying to achieve Mephistophele’s challenge: “to make eternal the fulfillment of every wish and every suffering.” It’s exhausting just to think about! Busoni’s uncompleted opera shows everywhere a brilliant mind grappling with larger “Faustian” ideas - and a seeming frustration as how best to represent them in a piece conceived for a stage drama. The resulting work is, of course, episodic in nature without the clear linear direction and storyline we are accustomed to in “standard” opera.

Klaus Michael Grüber’s production for Zurich seems intent to maximize that episodic nature and the attempt to flow the acts together with a cinematic liquidity makes the “choppiness” (for lack of better word) of the work all the more noticeable. The enormous stage design seemed to me a blending of a hyper-realism mixed with the symbolic. To that end, watching this I was reminded (more than once) of the great silent movies, and the larger-than-life performances, odd costumings (for all but Faust and Mephistpheles) all enhance that feeling. At the same time, Grüber’s staging has a church pageant feel to it, almost enhancing the static qualities of the opera Mr. Hampson appears to be one of those always good looking fellows whose looks actually seem to only improve with age and here, even exhausted and greasyhaired, he looks terrific. The voice, always attractive is gorgeous in this incredibly difficult music and even when the music threatens to overwhelm him he is never less than compelling - giving everything he has. The last half hour of this piece is my favorite as it’s almost entirely Faust in this Wagnerian length soliloquy of ineffable beauty and power. Hampson is at his absolute zenith here - watching him grapple with all of the ideas presented him, the reality he alone cannot attain what he had set out to, the realization of his mortality - all set to Busoni’s stunning score - I was overwhelmed by it, completely undone.

I know many find this work difficult going, but I really believe even if one doesn’t care particularly for most of the opera, this scene alone is worth the price of the set. Hampson is THAT amazing here.

Gregory Kunde has the unenviable task of singing the other impossible role, Mephistopheles. The tessitura alone is a killer, but Kunde makes it all work and is often thrilling vocally, while physically his devil comes off as wry and deadpan. The combination works wonderfully.

The lovely Sandra Trattnigg is the Duchess of Parma and ably sings her difficult aria more than adequately . . . admirably, even, but while she has an attractive voice the role really isn’t a great one and she (whether directed or on her own) doesn’t make quite the meal out of it that I hoped she might. Some of the costumes are outlandish and downright weird, which, I’m guess serves to heighten the difference between the Devil, Faust and everyone else in the world, but some of them were (to me) fairly ghastly.

Philippe Jordan looks like he should be starring in movies rather than conducting operas, but he does a (mostly) superb job with the Zurich forces and nearly all of the music comes across magnificently. The one disappointment I had was in the long Symphonic Intermezzo (which begins the 2nd disc). It is dispatched with precision, attention to detail and amazing dynamics, but it felt “soulless” to me. There was too much of a detached quality that got under my skin as I want this intense, mostly soft music to “burn” and it did just about the opposite here. This was difficult for me to understand (but clearly an artistic choice . . . duh) as the rest of the score has that “burning” that Busoni has infused it with. Busoni’s opera is, as Hampson refers to it a complete “masterpiece.”

Despite its episodic nature - perhaps because of it - one can experience the ideas of Faust better than in any of the other Faustian operas. In a few hours his Doktor Faust encompasses far more of those ideas than could possibly be gleaned than were one able to spend the same amount of time with the sources from which it is derived. It seems almost as if told in a dream-like state, where anything at all is possible with little to no regard for the banalities of realism. Musically, Busoni embraces so many styles - there is Bach, Beethoven and Schumann aplenty in the score.

During one section of the great final monologue I always feel the presence of Poulenc ’“Dialogues of the Carmelites” (even though that work came much later). It is a glorious score wed to a a sometimes difficult to grasp libretto, but I don’t necessarily consider that a flaw, but rather more of a challenge to the listener. This is one tough bird of an opera. Busoni almost guaranteed his opera would be difficult on all accounts: to cast, to interpret, and to sit through. Despite a mostly ear ravishing score, it’s not one to “sit back and enjoy,” like some other works, but this production - musically and theatrically, yields mighty rewards.

There is a marvelous 26 minute interview with Hampson and the Zurich Opera House dramaturg, which is a “must see.” Hampson (speaking, thinking and gesturing in perfect German) is witty, intellectual without being “poofy” about it - it’s all “real” to him and his energy is as engaging off stage as on.

In one hilarious section he mentions the difficulty of the piece which he declares “unsingable” - how nearly impossible it is and how one of his first arias - there is all of this difficult coloratura but “the orchestration . . . is massive, everyone’s sawing away, thumping and tooting (he makes all manner of comic physical gestures here) while the conductor is (imitates a conductor trying to control the orchestra) and there above the vocal line it’s marked ‘sotto voce!’ . . . after a day and a half of this my lyric voice started wobbling in this ‘screamed version . . . ” Hampson as comedian works too!

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