A Remarkable Giulio Cesare from Il Pomo d'Oro!

Yesterday, the series Elbphilharmonie LIVE livestreamed a spectacular concert performance of Handel's most popular opera - and my favorite, opera, Giulio Cesare in Egitto.

Francesco Cort  led his brilliant Baroque ensemble, Il Pomo d’Oro  in a reading that brought out every element of the complete score in a performance of almost four seamless hours that passed like a dream.  They have been touring Europe with the same cast headed by the much anticipated first performances of Jakub Józef Orliński in the title role.

Last night there was one major change:: Cleopatra, and I must admit disappointment Sabine Deviehle, whose Cleopatra I've heard and raved several years ago, would not be singing this performance.  In her stead, the always excellent French soprano Sandrine Piau would assume the role of the Egyptian Queen. As much as I have loved her in the past (she was, on more than one occasion, a stunning Semele), I've not heard about her much in recent years. Well, let me tell you, for someone who will be 61 years old in a few months, Ms. Piau's was a jaw droppingly beautifully, exquisitely sung Cleopatra. Ms. Piau looked splendid and sounded even better than that. Cleopatra's arias were dispatched with ease, each like a great jewel completing an exqisitely crafted necklace . . . or crown.

While the voice remains in remarkable shape, it is not as fresh as, say, Deviehle for the spectacular Théâtre des Champs-Élysées performances a few years ago, nor could or should it be. Sabine was 36 or 37, really just entering her zenith years (where she remains) while Sandrine was one of the first Baroque Soprano Superstars of the early 90's, collaborating frequently for performances and countless recordings with William Christie, Christophe Rousset, Hervé Niquet,  Emmanuelle Haïm, Marc Minkowski  and other leaders of the movement. But, at 60, the tone remains firm, the coloratura formidable, ornamentations dazzling, and the breath conrol of this singer - her ability to spin lines almost endlessly remains exquisite.  Add to that some twenty years with this role (I recall a glorious 2008 performance with René Jacobs)  adding here is a depth of - and insight into - this character that is uniquely dramatic.

I was excited - but also worried about Mr. Orliński's Cesare. The voice (for me) has always been on the brighter and lighter side of countertenors (not a complaint, I love the guy's sound), but my ideal interpreters have almost always been mezzos - for a number of reasons.  As I get older, I'm finding - unlike many of my friends - I'm  more accepting and even excited by, different ways and different voices presenting music that is so familiar we're often "locked in" to thinking it MUST be performed THIS way.  Must it?  In my now "senior years" I've grown to love performers and performances I would have turned my nose at twenty or thirty years ago, and finding, I'm happier. Sue me.  

Orlinski''s sound remains bright here, creating a more youthful sounding Caesar than history might dictate - but this isn't history, it's opera!  What helps him convince is there seems now to be an expansiveness to his sound - particularly in his rich lower register, that adds not just color, but purpsoe to the singing of the text. 

There are so many arias in this opera that I can't - or won't (at least here) go into any details of them, except to say there were none that disappointed, and I was glad for the inclusion of them all. (I think they were all in there, at least!)

The rest of the cast, Yuriy Minenko (Tolomeo), Beth Taylor (Cornelia)  Rebecca Leggett  (Sesto), Marco Saccardin (Curio), Alex Rosen (Achilla), and Rémy Brès-Feuillet (Nireno) each delivered performances that equalled - in drama, thrill, beauty and musicality - the two leads.  The singing all night - stunning enough that it was a pleasure NOT seeing sets and costumes and STILL getting the drama of Handel's masterpiece. 

Though I'm not mentioning the arias specifically, I will single out the duet, Son nata a lagrimar as one of the most powerful, and moving moments of the evening. Beth Taylor and Rebecca Leggett, as mother and son, completely took my breath away in delivering one of the most mournful, and touching expressions of grief in all of opera. 

Maestro Corti's impeccable musicianship, his shaping of the score and ability to coax a deliciously rich sound from his Il Pomo d’Oro players made for a sensational performance, and it is a joy to watch him bouncing from condcuting, to jumping down onto the harpischord , t hen back up again like an Olympic athlete.  

For anyone who loves Handel - and this opera in particular - I can't recommend this joyous, stunningly sung and played gem of a performance. Outstanding!

Amazing "Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay"

This past Saturday, I along with countless others braved the worst winter storm in years to attend the cinema screening of Mason Bates' and Gene Scheer's new opera, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.

I had thoroughly enjoyed the opera's opening night broadcast enormously but, like everyone else I knew, furious at the Met for not scheduling this important new work for an HD treatment. Fortunately for the Met, all seven performances were sold out with tickets were as rare as the proverbial hen's teeth. Seizing the moment, the Met scurried to get cameras in  to record the final performances into the seamlessly edited HD recording  we saw Saturday. They also (wisely) scheduled four more performances during the winter break. Thi is good.

With the daunting task of crafting a libretto for an "average length" opera from Michael Chabon's 650 page Pulitzer Prize winning novel, Mr. Scheer, while commiting some gender re-assignments of several roles, did a remarkable job and delivered a text presenting more than enough of the duo's adventures to project and evoke this sprawling tale of war, comic books, fascism, adventure, sacrifice, freedom, love and - most beautifully - friendship. Everything you need to know is in there.

Armed with this, Mr. Bates' created a wide sprawling score, infused with his now familiar style combining traditional orchestrations with electric, synthesized sound, and the result feels just right.  While I admire and champion many contemporary composers, Bates has been on my radar for 20 years, and I can't think of a composer better equipped to tell this kind of tale. 

(Side note: Many critics and audiences have complained about Bates use of electronics, and how they "don't belong" in "classical music."  One may not like employment of synthesizers, electric guitars, etc., but the fact is electronics have been used in classical music for more than a century, employed by countless composers including Edgar Varèse, Gian Carlo Menotti, Olivier Messiaen, Kaija Saariaho, Philip Glass, John Adams .  . . so precedent has been more than just merely "set.") 

Bates refers to this synthesis of traditional and electronic sound, as symphonic electronica.  As one who has been a fan of (and involved in) the Noise Music scene, I was heartened to hear the incorporation of these strange sounds (along with all the foley work supplied for the radio show-within-an-opera) incorporated into a work, with its myriad style motifs propelling the story through a gloriously unique hybrid of operatic theatre. While I prefer my opera live and in the house, it was especially fun experiencing Kavalier & Clay at a cineplex - bringing world of the movies into the mix. Yes, some have complained specifically about that, but those people are always yammering and whining about something ain't they? (Rhetorical question, but the answer is "yes.")

Bates' style motifs (my name for whatever it may be called)  work brilliantly, switching between elements of jazz, swing, avante garde (the symphony electronica), folksong, Hip Hop rhythms and, when appropriate, grand olde Hollywood epic soundtrack magic .  While Bates is not a minimalist, he comfortably employs the brightness and quicksilver sound of that movement seamlessly into the fabric of his score. Influenced by what has come before him, With nods to (at least to my ears) Ravel, Weill, Bernstein, Wagner, Strauss, Prokofiev, and others Bates manages to create his own original sound world and it is a beautiful, haunting and always captivating one.

Eschewing the modern practice (well from Wagner onward) of adhering to vocal parlando, Bates has created arias, duets, ensembles, choruses that feel like classic standard operatic set pieces - and I love that nod to past traditions.  

The mindblowing production design from 59 Studio, easily rivals the most impressive physical productions the Met has put upon that great stage. Curtains, dissolves, projections, sets - all move the story - and its audience - from 1939 Prague through Brooklyn, Manhattan's gallery scene, office buildings, skyscrapers, a gay bar, warehouses, the Western frontline of the war, and, just as importantly, the fantasy world of comic books. Bartlett Sher's direction here with a perfect, if not name-recognizable cast, is perhaps the best work I've seen from him to date, and it showed in the way he paced the story's action, as well as the work with that remarkable cast. 

With his warm, resonant baritone, endearingly accented English, and physical presence, Andrzej Filónczyk strikes all the right notes as Joe Kavalier. Bringing the immigrant's sense of wide-eyed wonder, fueled by hopes and dreams of a better life in America. this part of the story felt especially prescient given what's happening to immigrants - and citizens - in these United States of America. We watch the rise and fall of Joe and seeing those dreams crushed through the rise of World War II's fascism, and it is devastating. As an actor, Filónczyk pulls us along through that heartbreak and redemption. It is a tremendous performance. 

The other title role was in equally excellent hands as tenor Miles Mykkanen's displayed all of the savvy, wit, ambition, along wit h the scarred insecurity and fear as the leg braced Sam with a clear, soaring tenor. It was impossible not to love Sam, and everybody did.

Sun-Ly Pierce (a singer I fell in love with in Des Moines Cunning Little Vixen) is Rosa who is very much  the anchor"and conscience of the show. Possessing a beautifully gleaming mezzo with a secure top, Ms. Pierce stole every heart. Her first act aria, Open Your Eyes reveals Rosa's earnest desire to rescue the child victims of the war. It was also the first sign I knew that I'd be in tears at what was yet to come. 

In some fun duel-casting, comic book hero The Escapist was portrayed by by a non-singing dancer, Jerimy Rivera, and "portrayed" by actor, Tracy Bacon who was beautifully sung by baritone Edward Nelson. Nelson, tall, blonde and handsome, Nelson was the epitome of the superhero-type, abundantly confident, openly gay, not quite garrulous but close, he is the opposite of closeted, fearful Sam, which makes their relationship both difficult and touching. The first kiss is not what one expects and was one - of many - moments that felt positively . . . well, cinematic.

As is often the case whenever he's cast, Patrick Carfizzi - in the brilliantly written character role of Sheldon Anapol - nearly steals every scene he's in. As the kindhearted, benevolent boss at Empire Novelty Company, Incorporated. Mr. Carfizzi never fails to impress and get to the heart of every role I've been lucky to see him in - and there have been plenty!

One of the most crucial roles in Kavalier & Clay, is Joe's 14 year old sister, Sarah. Not a big singing role, but whenever she is onstage - singing or not - she is at the heart of this epic story. Soprano Lauren Snouffer was not only believable as the braided teenager, she made me wish Sarah had more to sing.

How moving it was for me to see one of my all-time-favorite singers, Richard Croft, along with Ellie Dehn as Joseph's parents, Solomon and Estelle. Both were enormously moving, and I couldn't help but recall them working together nearly twenty years ago in Satyagraha (can it have been that long ago?)

The balance of the cast showed the careful attention the Met can lavish in bringing a new, challenging work to life.  

 Yannick Nézet-Séguin seemed to be charged by every element, presenting a reading that would be hard pressed to be improved upon, shaping and coordinating the myriad elements of orchestration, sound design, electronics, percussion (right down to the clicking of typewriter keys). I feel (and maybe am alone here) that he shines in this kind of material more than some "traditional" works. Bates score deserved this kind of treatment. 

For me, this is what contemporary opera can be: a great literary source inspiring a poet and then a composer, designers, directors, singers and players to present something that can touch thousands of people with its beauty.

One of the more fascinating things I've taken in about this opera is that audiences (generally) have been so powerfully moved both by this opera and its message, cheering, standing ovations (don't start on me with that) while it seems the majority of critics have either trashed it, or only given mild praise.  

I remember being glued to the premiere broadcast and, even without its visual element - being stunned into silence and moved to tears - as was the entire audience at my cineplex this past Saturday. It made the first review - Joshua Barone for The NY TImes - come as a bit of a shock damning it as "superficial."  I read how Scheer's libretto is cliché-ridden with no "meaning or purpose."  And while he positively cites the drawing projections, he complains about other design elements (e.g., the Clay's apartment). 

He damns Bates' score  as "uninspired . . . obvious . . . harmless . . . nondescript . . . forgettable" bringing up these were the same problems he had with Fire Shut Up In My Bones and Grounded - operas with "toothless scores that ask so l itle of their audiences."  His final paragraph beginning "That's not what opera is," is the final blow.  But he was not alone - the majority of "professional" reviews seemed to go out of their way - in best and most imaginative "I'm going to write a bad review with fun words." Some of the attacks were beyond laughable. One, complaining about the death of one of the characters and how it did not feel "tragic enough."  Or the number of reviews varying the theme of "the melodies are so banal you wonder why they bothered." And on and on they go.  How clever. they all are. 

But none of that matters to me - I - and almost everyone I know - loved the experience, and I've friends who were so moved by this - they went back to Wednesday's encore performance.  I'm thrilled that, despite any bad press - the Met saw the wisdom of bringing the production back during the break for four more performances beginning February 17 that, while not yet sold out, are already selling well.  I wish everyone in the company - and all future audiences - the very best.  I do hope that more positive word-of-mouth reviews will factor in more than the harsh criticisms of those who felt it a waste of time, money, and talent. 

As I end this, I'm reliving the opera's emotionally transcendant final scene, I can't help but think of another opera that affects me with its bittersweet but beautiful message of hope in this often confusing and sometimes dark world  Leoš Janáček's The Cunning Little Vixen.  That's not bad company to keep. 

Viva Kavalier & Clay!

SAUVAGE/WILD

During weeks of illness I took to watching scads of movies - more than usual even. Some were brilliant, some stinkers, and some . . . unsettling, but beautiful . . .  powerful. In that final category, nothing came remotely close to Camille Vidal-Naquet's 2018 feature Sauvage/Wild. 

This is one of those difficult films that I honestly can't think of anyone I can recommend it to. This will become evident for a number of reasons as (or if) you read on.  I had a hard time initially, but letting myself go where it took me I ultimately found this to be a gem . . . a disturbing stunner and, in its way, beautiful. It is galvanized by the remarkable, unflinching performance of Félix Maritaud as Leo, whose story it is we're brought into.

Director Vidal-Naquet gives no hints or real clues as to Leo's background - why or how he ended up with the always challenging life before him.  Shot almost in a documentary-like style, we are enter   into Leo's world of sex trade, drug abuse and homelessness in a manner that is unapologetic and "in your face."   It's all simply matter of fact with no judgment, and little sympathy. Anything resembling those will be left up to the viewer. Or not.  

Leo is a homeless, illiterate, gay prostitute eeking out his sad living, sleeping and working on a highway of an unspecified French city. A street-handsome, twenty-two year old, he feels - despite the profession - like an innocent . . . a naive waif or animal who, despite his station in life carries himself with a sort of dignity that cannot help but be admired.  I smiled watching Leo walk with a confidence moving easily and almost invisibly through the streets and sidewalks. 

Félix Maritaud gives Leo a presence that is raw . . . proud without arrogance, almost noble in its way. We also quickly realize this loner is a young man so desperate for love he will do - quite literally - anything for it. He exhibits no shame or embarrassment in declaring - or attempting to show his love towards his only friend, Ahd, another prostitute, and the polar opposite of Leo.  A few years older, Ahd is far more streetwise, savvy, and lets it be known he is strictly gay-for-pay.  Nonetheless, it is clear how much he cares for his friend, offering Leo advice and comfort, while ever attempting to let him know a romance is not part of their story. 

As Ahd, Farid-Éric Bernard commands equal attention in their scenes. There is a scene with the pair doing a three-way with an older, handicapped client, who wants to be kissed, but only Leo obliges, while Ahd watches with disgusted fascination.  When Leo attempts to kiss Ahd - it goes off the rails. When later, Ahd asks why Leo is okay with kissing, and the younger friend speaks, but it is his body language . . .  and eyes that give the real answer.  

There is one particular scene that takes the film beyond brutal, not only in its simulated sex - which is both graphic, and difficult to watch, but equally so in the degradation and contempt shown towards Leo. He's obviously not into what's taking place, and it feels as though the poor kid is - literally - offering his body in some form of sacrifice to prove his honor.  Leo, who seems never to feel humiliation or degradation- here is now, finally both. It was nearly impossible not to turn away from the screen, but Maritaud's performance is so compelling . . . wrenching that it broke my heart. 

It's no surprise to learn Leo is physically sick. How could he not be, drinking the same water from the filthy street puddles where he washes up. This llness leads us directly to the most moving interaction of the film.  Leo visits a a middle aged woman doctor whose questions he mostly answers directly and honestly, including her asking if he has considered giving up the drugs and life he lives. His response of "why would I?" is not  surprising: he's never known or considered anything else. Questions about his parents and schooling, etc. however, elicit only silence and a blank stare. We can only imagine what that story may be. 

When fate and harsh reality pull the two friends apart, Leo cannot understand Ahd's choice or advice, but as he pushes Leo away his choked voice tells his friend, something - I'll not here reveal - but which is filled equally with the possibilities of both hope . . . and heartbreak.

Many will dismiss Sauvage/Wild as  unwatchable - and that is not an unfair take on it, and why I can't give it a general recommendation. That being said, it is one of the most moving, emotional things I've watched this year, and even when my instincts were to turn away - or close my eyes I couldn't so compelling was the story, and Mr. Maritaud's performance.

I don't know when - or if - I will watch this again, but am intrigued by this director's work, and am definitely keeping my eyes on anything in the future featuring Félix Maritaud. He is remarkable here. 

Stutzmann and Cura: The Paris Tannhäuser

I just finished watching something I did not know existed: The 2017 Paris Tannhäuser from L'Opéra de Monte-Carlo.  Though billed as a world premiere that just doesn't sound right. Whatever it was, it began with me already slightly prejudiced against it, yet by its conclusion moved to tears, finding myself wanting to experience it all over again. 

Performing it in this version - and in French - seemed to change not only the vocal line (in interesting ways) but also the texture and feel of the opera. In fact, its very orchestral fabric felt lighter, and, I'm not certain how to phrase it, but not quite Wagnerian seems  right - even if that doesn't sound right.  It felt very French. Peut-être oui? Anyway, I loved it. 

I had a few issues with some of the staging. It opens with the Venusberg, as a barefoot Henri arrives onstage alone with an enormous opium pipe. It's nearly 30 minutes before Henri sings, what with the Venusberg Vixens and Venus herself taunting, teasing and smoking with him. This was the part that felt silly to me, but in thinking about what I saw afterwards - I realize it works, and I need to go back with a better mind set. 

To his credit, Jose Cura is absolutely commanding in the title role. In excellent voice, while looking like a strung out wreck from his debauchery in the Venusberg, he pours himself into Henri with a commitment that made me care and have concern for Tannhauser as a character, in a way I rarely have. I'd go so far as to say, this Tannhauser may be one of the very best performances I've seen or heard Cura give - and I like this singer whose work can be variable.  He is gripping from start to finish dramatically as well as musically. By the time we arrive at the Rome Narrative Cura reveals he knew to pace himself, to reach this near mad scene  having reserves of strength and it was impossible  - at least for me - not  to want to forgive this sinner.   

I've heard Nathalie Stutzmann conduct this same opera several times now, and here she leans into the French tradition, beautifully controlling everything with a masterful touch in a way that makes it not feel or sound quite like Wagner.  If I sound crazy, it's merely because I am - and find it difficult to put into words. The best I can do is express my absolute surprise (and joy) at the enormous difference between say, this performance and the recent ones from Bayreuth or the Met - which were also excellent, by the way.  Additionally, Maestro Stutzmann's singerly attributes manifest in a way I appreciate and have heard from other great singer/ conductors (the Canadian Barbara Hannigan comes to mind) - placing the right emphasis on what comes out of the pit with a strong emphasis on vocal placement, and making the French libretto sound even smoother than German. 

Mezzo, Aude Extrémo is about as sensual a Venus as one could want, and it's interesting to see her physically return during the final scenes of the opera in a last ditch effort to pull Henri back to her world.  

Annemarie Kremer is lovely as Élisabeth, though in the third act there is a bit of a light steel to her sound where I wanted a bit more radiance and warmth, but she's good. Very good.  While I wasn't crazy about her demise, it worked in this context and was wrenching, as it should be.

Steven Humes sing and acts a very strong Hermann.

Jean-François Lapointe is just wonderful as Wolfram, and his "Song to the Evening Star" - the most beautiful aria in the score sounds just as lovely as 'Ô douce etoile, feu du soir."

Was it perfect? Almost nothing is, so this certainly was not. Several elements of the staging - which I overall liked and found myself caught up in - just felt like overkill or . . . just wront. The worst for me was the last bit of business (which I'll not spoil here) which ruined the moment for me - if only slightly. Oh, how I'd love to see this filmed again - with that bit removed.  

The physical production is directed nearly perfectly by Jean-Louis Grinda and Laurent Castaingtis's designs are stunning at every turn, even continuing the bare stage phenomenon that's taken over modern opera stagings.  There are props, e.g., the odd chair or two (or six), a lot of floor coverings in the guise of scarves and (perhaps panties?) during the Venusberg, but Castaingtis uses brilliant projections that give the entire thing a sense of cinemascope. It almost felt as if I were watching a film. The images are gorgeous and every one of them works in concert with the idea behind this style.

This was NOT at all what I was expecting today, and coming on the heels of a pair of performances of Pelléas (Vienna and Rouen) I'm not only opera-ed out . . . I'm French Opera-ed Out!