To continue with the second part of my opera patchwork, skimming over a few moments from various recordings I’ve watched and listened to over the past months, here are more highlights, in slightly ordered disorder:
Dons, and Don’ts…
As it happens, my two favorite operas both start with “Don”: Don Carlo(s), and Don Giovanni. (And the opera I have shed most tears over and just recently discovered, is Don Quichotte.)
Well, of course, I need to be getting myself ready for the French version of Don Carlos before October, as I am mostly familiar with the Italian versions. So, I ordered a gently-used copy of the 1985 the Domingo/Nucci/Raimondi CD conducted by Claudio Abbado. (More later.) Also, I am rewatching the beautiful 1996 Theatre du Chatelet production with Roberto Alagna, Thomas Hampson, Jose Van Dam, Karita Mattila, and Waltraud Meier. Very much recommended.
The highlight of recent Don Giovanni productions was a broadcast on Sirius radio a couple of months ago, with the reverse casting of my original Don Giovanni production. I had fallen in love with Samuel Ramey as the Don when I was a little girl, in the Salzburg production with Ferruccio Furlanetto’s Leporello. In the recent radio broadcast from the Met on Sirius, the roles were reversed–as, apparently, they often were–and here Ferruccio was the Don to Ramey’s Leporello. Completely delightful!! My opera-pal-extraordinaire, Gabriela, listened to it as well, which was perfect: we both have old associations with that Salzburg Don Giovanni…and her crush was Ferruccio!
And speaking of Ferruccio, that brings me to another “Don” highlight: the recent Vienna production of the 5-act Italian Don Carlo with Ramon Vargas (Carlo), Ferruccio Furlanetto (Philip II), and…the baritenor (?) Placido Domingo as Rodrigo! I very much enjoyed it, even though I was not overwhelmed by the production itself. (And dear Placido will be forever a tenor to my ear.) However, Placido was a tender, fatherly Rodrigo, whose character trajectory was beautiful. The highlight for me (and for dear Gabriela, who probably has not fully recovered) was Ferruccio as a commanding Philip. His “ella giammai m’amo” was to die for. (And frankly, he looked really dashing in that outfit…)
I also caught a rather odd production of Don Giovanni from the Finnish Helsinki Festival. It was rather inventive; a Don-Giovanni-as-reality-show concept. I liked it in some ways, although the handheld camera additions became a little dizzying after a while. The highlight for me was the Leporello. I fear the Don himself was too eccentrically portrayed–very so drugged-out and jittery–to have the devilish charm that is necessary for the believability of it all.
I had several encounters with the relatively new-to-me opera, Don Quichotte, based on Cervantes’ Don Quixote, composed by Jules Massenet with a libretto by Henri Cain. My first encounter was Jose Van Dam’s farewell performance at La Monnaie in 2010, which I received on DVD for my birthday–and when I finally got to it, found it so moving that I almost couldn’t bear to go past Act IV. Highly recommended. It is one of the most beautiful productions I’ve seen. I then heard a wonderful radio rebroadcast of Ferruccio in the title role, from the Lyric Opera of Chicago last year. To die for. I also listened to a CD copy of a production with Nicolai Ghiarov. However, Don Quichotte will have an entire blog post on its own, so I will simply say: see the 2010 La Monnaie production if you can.
Going for Baroque…
I’ve begun to dip my toe into Baroque opera, inspired by opera pals Blake and Laura, starting with a beautiful Dido and Aeneas with Sarah Connolly and Lucas Meachem, which is available to watch free if you have Amazon Prime (at least here in the States right now).
I also caught a really thought-provoking and clever regie production of Les Indes Galantes from Bordeaux, which really deserves a post of its own.
For a blog with “Don Carlo” in the title, I’ve written surprisingly little as yet on this, my favorite, opera. (Truthfully, I haven’t written as often as I’d like to in general.) Perhaps it is that trepidation that one has approaching a beloved subject…how to express thoughts in words that do it any justice? In time, I hope to explore this opera here in more depth, as I continue to learn.
Today, however, it has been a year since the opera obsession started; it feels like a good time to take a pause. This blog has been about the “opera journey”–more the opera than the “journey”– from a beginner’s perspective…not because my journey has any significance, but just because it is too joyful not to share. But this post, more personal, relates to what will be a huge milestone and joy for me in the coming year…thanks in great part to “mio Carlo,” Viv.
Why Carlo? (How shall I count the ways?) Phenomenal characters, complex relationships (talk about dysfunctional family!), glorious music, chilling and captivating political and religious themes…it has it all. It’s the Hamlet of opera, in combination with some of the intrigue of the history plays. But more than that, Don Carlo has, to me, the most moving relationship in any opera: the brotherly, self-sacrificial love between Don Carlo and his friend Rodrigo, the Marquis di Posa, who is caught between his affection for Carlo and his concern for the suffering of the people of Flanders under the heavy hand of Carlo’s father, King Philip II of Spain, and the Inquisition. To stretch the Hamlet connection, the Carlo/Rodrigo friendship has a bit of a Hamlet/Horatio dynamic–albeit with a stronger, more proactive “Horatio.” One, Carlo, is “passion’s slave,” haunted by a disastrous personal crisis in the midst of political ones–the other, Rodrigo, a staunchly loyal friend who sees the potential in him.
I’ve always had a soft spot for stories about male friendship. (I hesitated before seeing a version of the opera, after hearing the friendship duet on youtube–love at first listen–because I feared that Rodrigo would turn against his Carlo in the end, or that it’d end up being more rivalry than friendship.) But, not to spoil it, Verdi not only pays off the incomparably beautiful duet, a glorious tribute to friendship, but does so in a big way. I hope you will experience a version of this opera if you haven’t already…I eventually get around to writing a bit on those I’ve seen and heard.
My friend Viv (below) has often tried to guess which opera-relationships would likely be a success, if not hampered by the death and villainy that goes with the opera territory. (Would Mimi and Rodolfo honestly make it “in real life”? Tosca and Mario? Calaf and Turandot? It does make one pause…) I can only say, without a doubt, that Carlo and Rodrigo would make it. 😉 That’s the difference in this opera, an opera where the love serves the ideal, and the ideal the love; where friendship is deeper than the (sometimes) shallow ebb and flow of opera romance, where love is truly stronger than death and disappointment. It’s the bond of brothers.
Not unlike this friendship, the community of those who love opera is also close-knit. Opera friends are immensely enthusiastic and warm in sharing their joy, recommendations, practical help and advice…even sending/exchanging CDs or DVDs that they love or want to pass along. (One of mine just went out in the post to a friend the other day, and hers to me before that.) Listening to opera together, sharing knowledge and thought and insight. Opera buddies make life more and more beautiful all the time. My parents are hooked, and have not only tolerated but supported their daughter’s mad hobby, and will even listen to Wagner with me…a beau geste indeed. 😉 We’re all Carlos and Rodrigos to one another.
Around the time of my first Don Carlo, my long-distance friend Viv Hannides (fellow Kaufmanniac and Opera Enabler Extraordinaire, who allowed me to mention her name and snag a photo of hers–on the left–for this post, without knowing why) told me that there were rumors of a production of the French-language version—Don Carlos, as it is typically called in that version—to be performed at the Opéra National de Paris (Bastille) for the 2017-18 season, with Jonas in the title role. This would be historic on several levels: the stellar cast (more on that below) and the novelty of its being the full, 5-act French version. (They will apparently be doing the 5-act Italian version the following season.) Viv, who has a Paris Opera subscription, offered to help me get tickets, even back when we had just started to connect, if I wished to try for it when the time came.
Well, I knew I would have to try. It would perhaps be my first, or even only, chance to see/hear our tenor in person. (And who knows what can happen in a year’s time?) Sure, Jonas will doubtless be at the Met again soon enough–perhaps even next season, as there are rumors of a Tosca with his Cavaradossi–and what a dream that would be! We’ll soon find out for certain. But…this is Don Carlos! And, so my thinking went, it would be—from the time I first heard the rumors—a year and a half to two years away, depending on what point in the season it was performed. I had a bit of time to save, and plan. (Well, how time does fly…)
And what can I say of dear Viv? If only I could count the number of times generous, beautiful, hilarious Viv has made me laugh, and cheered me up with delightful, outrageously-altered pictures of my opera heroes (mostly Jonas and René Pape). And I don’t know at what point Viv became nicknamed “mio Carlo” by me—someone pointed out that we will have to start saying “mon
Carlos,” in keeping with the French version—and I her “Rodrigo,” but so it is. I believe I did mention a number of times wanting “to be Rodrigo when I grow up,” after encountering Thomas Hampson’s portrayal of the opera hero in the Salzburg production. (Really, though, she has been more the Rodrigo than I, the one to go above and beyond constantly…and has made for this distant “fanciulla del West” feel less distant from the hub of European opera than she really is.)
Most recently, she has redoubled my joy at the return of Jonas–in the Paris Lohengrin–after his months of recovery from the vocal injury. Viv was there the first night, January 18th, and stayed hours after to wait for him to come out after the show, keeping me posted as she waited.
Little did I know that a large part of her intent was to have our hero sign something for his long-distance fan who has not been able to see him in person yet. I won’t try to describe the emotion here. (My poor mom, who happened to be around at the time, had to put up with constant, weepy interruptions…) Not only to see my name in Jonas’ hand, but, even more, touched that “mio Carlo” would have even thought to take the time out of those few, precious moments—really, how often are we in close proximity to Jonas Kaufmann?–to think of her Rodrigo, so far away.
To put the icing on the cake, “our” Rodrigo, Thomas Hampson, is in a production of The Merry Widow at the same venue, only the night before! Tickets bought, and there’s no way we can’t get to Paris now. (I’m afraid, once there, it will not be possible to tear me away…)
Of course, getting the tickets are only step one, but we’ve done it. Paris, October 2017, here we come! (Somehow! Extra shifts at work, a few extra sewing orders, a little less sleep…for Carlos? For Thomas, Jonas, Ildar, Ludovic, Elina? Absolutely. Sleep is overrated anyway! :)) Again, Viv saved the day, spending hours navigating internet delays the moment ticket sales went up for Carlos. Truly, another huge gift…I don’t know how it could have been done otherwise.
Just…please God, keep every one of this beautiful cast in good health, for their sakes mostly…and ours too. Anyway, whatever happens, we’ll be able to say:
It is a dream-made-reality. Thanks, all my dear opera buddies and family…thanks for sharing the joy and knowledge constantly. “Vivremo insiem!”
And thank you so much, mio Carlo!
Dio, che nell’alma infondere Amor volesti e speme Desio nel cor accendere Tu dêi di libertà; Giuriamo insiem di vivere E di morire insieme; In terra, in ciel congiungere Ci può la tua bontà.
God, who has brought us together,
Fire our hearts with flames of glory,
Fire that is noble and pure,
Fire of love that will set men free!
God, grant that this love may fire us,
May freedom call and inspire us!
Accept the vow that we swear!
We shall die united in love!
(Translation by Andrew Porter, for the English National Opera’s guide, Don Carlos/Don Carlo, 1992.)
It was approximately 7:30am PST on February 5th 2016 that I first heard the voice of Jonas Kaufmann and Dmitri Hvorostovsky. The means: an innocent-looking facebook link to their Pearl Fishers duet from a concert (“Hvorostovsky and Friends”) in Moscow of 2008.
I had not followed opera ~ except for perhaps one or two Bryn Terfel productions on dvd ~ since I was a little girl with a crush on Samuel Ramey. However, having grown up with the marvelous Zeffirelli production of Turandot with Placido Domingo, my family and I had finally taken advantage the previous evening of the Metropolitan Opera’s Live in HD cinema showings ~ this time, the Met’s most recent Zeffirelli-based production of Turandot. Swedish soprano Nina Stemme was phenomenal as the lead, and the set was glorious to behold.
As we were underwhelmed by the Calaf, however, Debra (my marvelous mom) went on a search for current tenors ~ again, we had not been following opera ~ and came across the wonder-tenor Jonas Kaufmann. (Had we been under a rock all these years…?)
Never would we have imagined that any tenor after Domingo would have a voice of a similar quality. Mr Kaufmann’s is reminiscent of his, yet altogether unique; his has a darker texture than that of most tenors. Emotional, rich, “veiled”–as I have heard it described. Sublime. (But, truthfully, I don’t think the perfect word has yet been invented.)
And glorious Dmitri Hvorostovsky? A heart-stoppingly beautiful baritone, whose presence and power are unmatched, and who brings emotional richness and captivating charm to every role. Dima, we love you!
Little did Debra know what she would start with the innocent sharing of a link to a duet.
Since that time (about a month and a half later, as I record this), I’ve managed to see filmed or YouTube versions of operas such as Don Carlo (oh, have I fallen for Verdi, or what!), La Fanciulla del West, Il Trovatore, La Forza del Destino, Andrea Chénier, Manon Lescaut, Tosca, and Werther; I’ve seen Mr Kaufmann’s glorious An Evening with Puccini in the local cinema; and have discovered innumerable arias and lieder that have brought joy and light into a busy little life.
In a world filled with tragedy and loss, it is a great gift to find joy in the Beauty of something so well done, and so passionately. I thought of scribbling my thoughts here, as I continue to journey into this wonderful world, even if no one else were to read them.
But one of the best joys is discovering other opera fans and friends! I’m learning more by the day, and love sharing the love right back.
I figure: if one who has little to no means to spend on travel and expensive opera tickets and no formal musical knowledge or training, nor a facility for languages other than my own, can appreciate the great gift that opera is…well, anyone can. (And should, if possible!)
Jonas, Dmitri, and all of these great artists have opened ~ to this family, at least ~ the wide landscape of opera.
Oh, what have we been missing all these years?
A humble “thank you” to all artists who bring light and beauty into our lives.