Opera Maine: A Roméo to Remember

This past year I've been spending a lot of time with Romeo and Juliet - and Roméo et Juliette. and Romeo e Giulietta. Of all of the treatments of this tale, including Shakespeare's - my favorite is, easily, Gounod's five act opera.  I was thrilled to be able to attend Opera Maine's knockout of a production. 

Artistic Director, Dona D. Vaughn found a combination of old and new which provided an original, refreshing and eye-opening spin on tradition and just how potent a good story well told can be. The set was a simple affair – a mostly bare stage with a tall central wooden tower flanked by a pair of wide steps (and later two more structures that would attach to the tower). Scenic changes were accomplished by projections onto the rear stage wall that changed not only from scene-to-scene, but during them. At the start an enormous stained-glass wall quickly established the tone of the severity and tragedy pf the tale, before giving way to the elegance and light of the party scene.

Projections are, of course, not new in theatre, and frequently the use of brilliant photography makes them feel more cinematic - more real world. Such was not the case here. The projections were of paintings, rustic, earthy tones and buildings, ballroom interiors - keeping us out of the realm of reality, and pulling us into a sense of being in another time and place. It felt like a nod to opera's glorious past when heavily detailed painted flats sprang to life before our eyes – but even better and more so here. These projections also used animation - so when we saw stars, they were actually twinkling in the deep night sky, we’d see turtle doves flying across, as Stephano chased and sang about them, and we were treated to a shooting star sailing through space as the audience reveled along with Roméo's ecstasy following Ah! lève-toi, soleil! There were touches like this all evening long and they were simply glorious.

With a nod towards anime, both visually and in movement, there were details that made the action pop. The costumes - vivid - splendid and rich looking.  And the hair: fascinating hair designs in various blues, greens, auburns and silvers - twists and spikes - including Tybalt's Silver the Hedgehog with all those spikes. Lord Capulet had a stand-up bun going on making him even taller, and Mercutio's Samurai ponytail flew about dangerously like a whip. There was a lot of movement – including a short ballet with dancers doubling Romeo and Juliet at the opera’s start.  All of it felt like we were getting a thousand years of theatrical history playing brilliantly and seamlessly right before our eyes.

Cast from strength throughout this Roméo scored in every aspect of Gounod's lyric drama musically and dramatically - everyone perfectly matched to their role. 

Christopher Job sounded authoritative and appropriately regal, presenting a  sympathetic Count which seemed to bond him closer to his daughter, and rather a nice change from the frequently imperious father we often encounter in this opera

The naturally sympathetic Gertrude was Michelle Blauman, her rich, plummy mezzo capturing the Nurse's love and concern for her charge. 

Maxwell Levy's spikey-haired Tybalt began a bit tentatively in sound, but quickly matched the intensity infused this hothead with - one could initially admire his familial loyalty, then angered at  his instigation of the tragedy, and Levy, quick with sword and temper, played this off with a beautiful cruelty. 

Ricardo Lugo's Frère Laurent and Tyler Putnam's Duke each deeply  resonant felt and sounded exactly as one wants in these smaller, but pivotal roles. Likewise, in the crucial role of Pâris, Daniel Illig was able to make his brief moments memorable, his shock at his intended bride's "death," moving. Gounod was not kind to Benvolio, yet Jared Vigue helped make the moments opening party scene feel exactly right. Similarly, as Gregorio, Micah Schroeder got the ball rolling in his tussle with Stephano that led to the tragedy spinning out of control in one of opera's best street scenes. 

As Stephano, mezzo Winona Martin - as spunky as her electric blue hair, was a delight sailing through ""Depuis hier... Que fais-tu" offering nice trills and that quick High C near the end. A highlight of the night for certain.

When a voice stands out In a cast this strong, you sit up and notice, and that's precisely what happened when our Mercutio - baritone Laureano Quant opened his mouth. He already looked terrific and moved like an athlete, but the beauty of sound, the resonance and acting with the voice made his Queen Mab aria one of those moments where I told myself, "follow this guy's career."  Quant also proved to be an excellent swordsman, though of course that didn't change the story. Definitely someone to watch.

Mercutio's pal, Roméo  had a voice that did the same  (what is it they're feeding those Montagues?) and tenor Kameron Lopreore had my jaw dropping a number of times throughout the night. Physically,  he's big - not of the Alfredo Kraus or Roberto Alagna sized Roméos -more football than tennis player, and the voice matched: big, healthy, resonant with that tenorial "ping" of the old days. At times I wished he'd have brought a touch more nuance in softer passages (when you start loud, you can only get louder) but the voice is of such beauty and youthful sound, you just smile and glad to be in its presence. While excellent throughout, his “Ah! lève-toi, soleil!" literally stopped the show, and then one of my favorite scenes in all opera the ending of the third act as Roméo is banished was simultaneously heartbreaking and thrilling. Another career I'm going to be keeping my eye on. 

Soprano Denis Vélez, looked every inch the perfect Juliette, and dispatched her first arias with aplomb, if a little wildness - but that is not at all inappropriate to this character. Yet, as the evening wore on, I was unprepared for the increase of intensity in her sound, the size of the voice growing to match her Roméo. The shaping of her phrases increasing to a nearly heart-stopping beauty, and the Potion Aria (which remarkably used to be a standard cut for about a century) brought home the tragedy before the final scene. Indeed, this one of the most emotional moments in an opera absolutely filled with them. 

Virgil Bozeman's chorus was one of - and perhaps the best - I've heard in 30 years from this company. Their French sounded just right, the moved - and danced - with a fluidity that matched every other element of this marvelous production.

Keeping it all together was conductor Israel Gursky. Maestro Gursky has a special way with this company, and while we don't get a lot of French opera, everything about his leadership in this oh-so-French score sounded absolutely right and perfect. His attention to phrasing and dynamics propelled without force, but swelling on the grand tragic motifs in a manner that quite frankly took my breath away. We definitely need more French opera from you, Maestro. 

The final scene in the tomb was a departure from what has become more the norm - as the lovers embrace each other in death. Here, Vaughn doubled up the "sad" with Juliette on her funeral slab reaching out to Roméo who was pulling himself across the floor towards her before her delicate hand dropped in death. Maestro Gursky beautifully milked those final bars as Roméo inched his way towards his bride, but likewise - expiring before reaching her. I could hear others around me gasping lightly and yes, my eyes were wet. 

Bravo a tutti to Opera Maine for a spectacular evening of one of the world's great romantic tragedies. 

Looking at Peter Gelb From Both Sides Now (thank you, Joni)

Operagoers are known - and for good reason to be a lot prone toward the "clutching of pearls"  . . . not to mention the wringing of hands and this 65 year old man has been hearing - since boyhood - the constant cry of of "this is the end of opera."   I call bullshit. As ever, we're hearing that again now, with all fingers pointing toward Gelb. He indeed has made a bunch of mistakes - some boneheaded ones - but so did every single one of his predecessors and people need to (but won't) remember none of this began with Gelb.

While many journalists are quick to point out his faults (and again, there are enough of those to fill a book) it should also be said that there have been some major improvements, regardless of what the naysayers claim. 

One of the best improvements has been the contracting of the conducting assignments.  Under  Levine we didn't get a lot of variety really., but Gelb introduced the company to many leaders who previously had never worked there before, or as in some instances had not been heard from in many years: Simon Rattle, Harry Bicket, Lorin Maazel, Fabio Luisi, William Christie, Riccardo Muti, Jiri Bělohlávek, Kirill Petrenko, Daniel Barenboim, Esa-Pekka Salonen, Gianandrea Noseda, Andris Nelsons and, of course course like him or not, Yannick Nézet-Séguin.  

Let’s also not forget the live broadcasts so many enjoy from opening night through the very end of the season. The Met's Sirius channel - and then free weekday broadcasts began under Gelb’s watch. This didn't include just the opera repertoire, but galas, recitals by the likes of Jonas Kaufmann and Rene Pape, as well as the Met Orchestra concerts broadcast from Carnegie Hall with celebrated soloists.  

Then there are the archival performances– many complaints that some of their favorite performances have not yet been put into circulation, but for goodness’ sake, look how many gems we’ve been able to enjoy for the first time in over 70 years, and in some cases – ever before attracting audiences to performances that occurred before many were even born.  

During the Pandemic, while there were contentious battles fought with the unions, audiences  at home were STILL treated to nightly FREE streaming from the vaults of HD and old Live From the Met telecasts. But let's not talk about that!

Gelb lifted the ban on Met season artists from appearing during the Richard Tucker Galas –a ban both ridiculous and counterintuitive to its own interests.

The repertory has increased with more commissions in the last 20 years than in the previous half century.  Some may despise the new works (and they make that very loudly heard), but even more so, works like Strauss’ “Die Ägyptische Helena”; Tchaikovsky’s  Mazeppa (which needs to come back), and his Iolanta; Glass’ Satyagraha  and Akhnaten; Adams’ Doctor Atomic, Nixon in China and The Death of Klinghoffer, Janacek’s From the House of the Dead”; Rossini’s Armida and Comte d’Ory” Donizetti’s Queen Trilogy; Shostakovich’s The Nose; Verdi’s Attila; Puccini’s “La Rondine” Ades' "The Exterminating  Angel" and "The Tempest"; Handel's Agrippina; Mussorgsky's original version of Boris Godunov"; Aucoin's Eurydice; Picker’s An American Tragedy; Ades The Tempest and The Exterminating Angel; Muhly’s Two Boys and Marnie the NY premiere of Fire Shut Up in My Bones"; and Champion, and Dean's magnificent Hamlet. These, and more have made Met goers aware there is a whole, vastly underexplored world of opera out there. Whether or not they embraced it all is not as relevant as that it happened in the first place!  Some here will disagree. That is our nature. 

While a number of new productions of old works were Dead on Arrival (e.g., “Attila”), there have been a decent number of hits (some previously mentioned above); including . . . Prince Igor, Penny Woolcock’s Les Pêcheurs de Perles; William Kentridge’s Lulu; Patrice Chéreau’s Elektra;  Bartlett Sher’s Romeo et Juliette; David McVickar’s Giulio Cesare and François Girard’s Parsifal.  And there's one of the staples that caused the most provocation yet , one met with jeers and cheers but definitely shook things up: Simon Stone's Lucia di Lammermoor.  

But yes, while some of us may see this as all, or mostly good, Gelb has made any number of bone-headed, uninformed decisions, but the fact is, that’s part and parcel of the job. It has a long history that pre-dates his administration.  I've shared these before, but they bear repeating . . . sadly.  Some of it may sound . . . familiar. 

"The opera always loses money.  That's as it should be.  Opera has no business making money."   - Sir Rudolf Bing

“We are currently projecting the box office to achieve 76 percent of capacity versus a budget of 80 percent (capacity), resulting in a shortfall of $4,303,000.”  -  Joseph Volpe

". . . during the Centennial year (1983), while the Met garnered international attention, it was faced with a deficit of $4 million.  None of the new productions that year - Handel's ‘Rinaldo’, Verdi's ‘Ernani’, and Zandonai's ‘Francesca di Rimini’ - were received with much enthusiasm by the public . . . box office income dropped as expenses increased.  Another financial crisis loomed.  Another problem was the Centennial Endowment itself.   Donors . . . did not increase or in some cases (only) maintained their usual annual contributions, so annual giving dropped off . . . what the Board always feared would happen . . . "   Johanna Fiedler in  "Molto Agitato."

I'll stop - but to anyone who made it through another of my rants, I offer congratulations and apologies - whichever fits.

The Met's Tristan und Isolde in HD: Stunning In Sight and Sound

For an art form we've recently been told "no one cares about" a number of opera companies have been having sold out shows playing to packed enthusiastic audiences. One enjoying that kind of success is The Metropolitan Opera's new, and long-anticipated Tristan und Isolde, which has not only sold out its run, but done the very rare thing of getting most of the cast on board for one more show.  This is not to say opera still isn't hurting, it's what the arts tend to do, but should dispel any foolish notion that no one cares.

Yesterday, I had the absolute pleasure of attending the HD cinema transmission of Tristan, and it was well worth the wait. While I had a caveat or two about Yuval Sharon's now already controversial production, I'm only one among many who found it enormously satisfying, dramatically moving, and musically, this is the real deal. Sharon's production is - like-it-or-not, stunning. Depending on where you are on the traditional vs. regie scale, it can be either enormously thought provoking and emotionally satisfying, or busy and annoying. I fall in the former camp, and loved almost every moment.  

Like Wagner's score, Sharon gives us layers and levels and Es Devlin's remarkable multi-level, stage literally fills the stage top-to-bottom, side-to-side creating seemingly disjointed playing areas. On the stage floor level is a table where siti stage doubles of the title couple, while above is an enormous oval, that will change shapes, become interlocking tunnels, open and shut, and offer views e.g., from an eye, a camera aperture, even a kaleidoscope. The changes happen with a dreamlike fluidity matching mood and music  that felt natural, even as I watched in awe.  

As has been the case throughout history, the production itself almost feels secondary (something that would drive the dramatist,Wagner, insane), because it is the music that draws all to Tristan. First. Foremost. Always.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin is a conductor I both enjoy and get annoyed with. Since the beginning he has shown a tendency to relish too much in his orchestral bath of sound, frequently not seeming to  understand what the word balance means.  I've heard some of the biggest voices in opera rendered all but inaudible under his baton. When he gets something right, however, it's very good indeed. Such is the case of his reading of Tristan. It's his kind of opera - a synthesis of voice and orchestra that blend into that oft-used reference "oceanic" in that Wagner's score comes through the house in waves of sound that pulsate . . . ebb and flow throughout the house. Each of the preludes perfectly captured the mood and spirit of the act to follow. The strings were cutting deep with a resonance you could feel - even through loudspeakers in a cinema. The exquisite writing for winds had such plaintive delicacy as to sound like the very essence of deep sadness. Wagnerian magic poured out of the pit from start to finish.

That magic extended to the cast, most notably its title characters. Only months after her already historic debut several as Isolde (and rather shortly after a much publicized delivery of twin boys)  Lise Davidsen again shows what kind of beauty is possible in this challenging role.  The possessor of an enormous sound, Davidsen is also a cautious, intelligent singer with an ever increasing good dramatic sense if not necessarily by instinct. Where I felt roles like Leonora (Forza), Tosca, et al. never satisfied me, whereas the Germanic repertoire suits her perfectly, and no role to date more so than her Isolde. With only two outings under her  belt, she is already a leading Isolde, and I have no doubt we shall see Ms. Davidsen devleoping into one of the great Isoldes of any age. I'm just letting that sink in. 

Her Isolde had both spit and spirit . . . not an overly haughty princess, Davidsen nonetheless easily conveyed a regality, even when being somewhat submissive to her lady, Brangäne. She laughs, reveals a fear-based anger, one might call it contempt ,even - toward her captors,and her curse rings out with non-disguised venom. That she manages to do so while sounding breathtaking is almost a revelation of sorts. This Isolde is capable of strong-arming both Tristan and Kurwenal in the beginning, but also makes the potion taking business among the most believable in my experience. Her business with a knife pointed at Tristan's throat was an effective image - and brilliantly revealed by the staging; the action framed in and as the knife's edge. (That probably doesn't read well if you've not seen it - but the effect was stunning). Much like her Isolde for Spain, Davidsen seems to fully believe in the director's vision which makes her Isolde beautifully believable. We can feel everything she feels, see what she sees, and the effect of that cannot be overstated. The Liebestod is taken at an incredibly slow pace, which recalled Hildegard Behrens and Bernstein's 1982 performance  in that while indeed slow, never languishes or becomes shapeless. Indeed, both soprano and conductor imbue Wagner's chromaticism with a pulsing, yearning quality that by its end, very nearly stopped my heart.  

Michael Spyres was never a singer I might never before have imagined as Tristan, but after hearing him as Pfitzner's Palestrina and Wagner's Siegmund, was very intrigued by the prospect of this bel canto prince's transformation to Sir Tristan. What I experienced yesterday reconfirmed what I thought opening night; this is the  Tristan of my dreams today. We have several marvelous tenors in the role right now, but for me, none sound as "beautiful" to my ear as does Mr. Spyres. There appeared to be no vocal challenges (not that there weren't) he couldn't tackle, and, at every measure, I believed this was Tristan. In fine form throughout the first two acts, Spyres approached the Tristan Challenge - that voice-wrecking, backbreaker of what is arguably opera's longest mad scene, sounding as fresh as he had four hours earlier. The voice sailed with ease and an evenness that captures all of the frenzied hysteria and tumult of the dying Tristan. 

The third act also brought out English horn player Pedro Diaz from the pit onto the stage.  Costumed and woven into the action it provided a beautiful kind of symbiosis drawing even closer the inseparable relationship between music and drama. I thought it another perfect touch. 

Sharon's use of acting doubles here was at its most potent.As the silent Tristan lies dying, the singing Tristan is in that tunnel above, watching  himself as he passes into an afterworld. A host of white clad dancers move around and almost through him, his movements blending into theirs in a sort of eternal dance of spiritual energy that I found haunting in the way the music makes me feel. During this transition from life-to-death we watch Tristan witnessing the too-late arrival of his beloved  - now very pregnant - Isolde, and here, at his final cry - "Isolde!" found me falling to pieces. The stage image, one I never myself could have imagined - hit me with an enormity of emotions - I was all over the place, filled with sorrow, a strange satisfaction, but most of all, a sense of wonder. 

Few operatic side kicks are as crucial to the development of a work's title characters than Brangäne and Kurwenal. Although servants, each serves as confidant, friend, sibling and guardian with  unwavering love and loyalty. These relationsips, in a very large way, define who Tristan and Isolde are.

 Ekaterina Gubanova has been Planet Earth's go-to Brangäne for twenty years, and while not as fresh now as then, she remains among my favorites in this role.  and the voice on this occasion sounded stronger, sturdier and warmer than opening night. At every turn one feels this is Brangäne down to her core.  

I am a  huge fan of Tomasz Konieczny, but both on opening night and yesterday, his first act Kurwenal sounded a bit blowsey - the vibrato a tad wide and unfocused. However, as on opening night, all of that went away and Konieczny, always marvelous actor sounded more robust and even. making an enormous impact. One of the most moving parts of Tristan is Kurwenal's love for and loyalty to Tristan, as we watch him tenderly care for his dying friend, followed by Tristan's recognition of that devotion. There is a bond here at a level rarely seen in Wagner, or indeed, any opera. Kurwenal's final words, "Tristan, beloved, do not scold your faithful friend for following you" is one of those lines that has the power to destroy me emotionally, and Konieczny did not disappoint.

Ryan Speedo Green brought both a tragic nobility and warmness of tone befitting King Marke. His big monologue at the discovery of the lovers felt more subdued than I've seen before, and . if his King isn't yet on the level of  say, Pape or Salminen, it very much feels headed in that direction, which makes me eager to experience him in the role again. 

The roles of the Young Sailor, Melot, and the Shepherd were respectively taken by Ben Reisginer, Thomas Glass, and Jonas Hacker who all contributed strong performances when being seen or unseen. The men of the Met's chorus were properly stirring and "chanty" in the first act.

After hearing so much negative criticism of the production itself, I was surprised that the sold-out audience at Apple Cinema Westbrook - of which I appeared to be the youngest member of - reacted so positively, discussing the staging, almost all of them loving it, "beautiful" being the most used description. At the first intermission the pair of ladies to my right, let me know they were not among those loving the production however, and apologized for giggling several times. I thought that was endearing, but by the end, both women were wiping their eyes with tissues, and invited me to look into the seniors adult courses on opera at University of Southern Maine..  Meanwhile my seatmate to my left, loved everything about about it. Barbara was a delight, an 84 year old Polish woman who moved here in 1975. We talked about Wagner, and she found it interesting that I was obsessed with Wagner in my childhood, "I grew up in Poland during World War II - we didn't have Wagner!"  

Most objections against this Tristan seem reserved for the final moments, with Isolde giving birth to a son, before the Liebestod. I didn't like the idea when hearing about it, but seeing it - I found it perfectly fulfilled Sharon's vision of Wagner's spirituality - combining infinite tragedy with eternal hope, and regeneration. As the silent Isolde dies alongside Tristan, the singing Isolde, her outer garments now pared down to purest white, sings to her child and all of us below, Brangäne gently handing over the orphaned infant to King Marke.  I cannot speak to the effectiveness of how this played in the house, but in HD, that final image of the King cradling his wife's child in his arms, gently kissing him as we watch Isolde moving through the tunnel towards Tristan - towards eternity, was as beautiful an image as I've ever seen.

The entire afternoon had the feel of triumphant and important journey - a genuine event, and as we poured out of the lobby, into the brightl, sunlit beautiful first day of Spring, those hours in the dark with Wagner and company felt like a renewal of life. 

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 exquisitely crafted necklace . . . or, more appropriately here . . . . a 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 Baroque revival movement. At 60, the tone remains firm, the coloratura formidable, ornamentations dazzling, and the breath control 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)  what she adds here is a depth of - and insight into - this character - one that is uniquely dramati, and her own.

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 of singing a character - and of different styles of voices presenting music so familiar we're often locked into thinking  it absolutely must be performed this way.  Really? Must it?  In my now "senior years" I've grown to love performers and performances I may well would have have turned my nose at twenty or thirty years ago, and finding, I'm far 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 more purpose 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!