It’s Puccini Week over at the Met’s Nightly Streams, beginning with an opera I haven’t seen any version of yet: La Rondine. And this version stars Roberto Alagna and Samuel Ramey! I’m not sure what I’ll make of the opera, but I’m intrigued to give it a try.
Also difficult to resist will be a rewatch of any La Fanciulla del West, my favorite Puccini opera. I am also intrigued by this casting of La Boheme, which is one I’ve not yet seen.
Have a happy week, everyone…and happy opera listening and watching!
My friend Gabriela and I have long thought that he deserved one, so why not create it ourselves? The incomparable Canadian bass-baritone John Relyea has been a favorite of ours for years. I recall first hearing his voice on the radio, and wondering: “Who is that?” Along with our dear friend and group admin extraordinaire S. Blake Duncan, we now have the beginnings of a fan group, which I will link to here.
I will write an entire separate post (well, probably several, eventually!) about the work of Mr. Relyea, but for now…please feel free to come check out the group, and share or learn about this extraordinary bass-baritone.
It’s a week of bel canto streaming free from the Metropolitan Opera, and each stream will be available for approximately 24 hours.
Due to work this week, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make most of them, but I definitely want to rewatch I Puritani with the great bass John Relyea this Friday ~ which I’ll probably start around 7:30pm Oregon time! It’s one of my favorite operas just for the sheer beauty of listening ~ it’s one of the rare ones where following the plot is not as crucial to me, I just love to listen to it so much. I never did get around to seeing this week’s version of L’Elisir and Norma (Sat/Sun), so perhaps I’ll be able to dip into those as well.
I know I’m not alone in feeling something of a constant, low-grade “depression” (not to be clinical about it, but for lack of a more accurate word) during what has been a uniquely difficult year for the world.
Countless fires in my home state, Oregon (or is it “Mordoregon”?) ~ one of which started at the north end of my own town, Ashland, this past Tuesday, and caused devastation in its northward path to neighboring towns ~ and all over the West, and the Covid-19 shutdown, and ineffective leadership, and racial injustice…all feel like an oppressive shadow obscuring any brightness in the world.Β Now, we hardly need more brooding words about the state of the world; rather, we need hope, joy,Β kindness, good works for our neighbors, beauty, and art. Sometimes it has been all some of us can do to just live, and pray, and work; some of my own opera listening and watching has fallen by the wayside. But it is a sad loss, if that’s too long the case. We’ve lifted up the neglected “essential workers” during this time of pandemic, and it’s beyond wonderful. Now, I feel more than ever how truly essential also are our artists, actors, musicians, and those who bring beauty into the world. I don’t intend to focus on anything but music and opera in this blog, but only to take a brief pause, to remind myself, if nothing else, not to neglect the beauty that we live for.
Speaking of those who bring beauty into the world, one of my opera heroes, Ildar Abdrazakov, has tested positive for Covid-19, and I hope and pray for his quick and full recovery, and for all of his family.
I am so curious as to how, and whether, the Don Carlos from the Wiener Staatsoper, with Ildar and Jonas, will continue as scheduled, in the midst of social distancing. But if does, I’ll be there…virtually!
Another bright spot during these times, for many, has been not only the nightly Met Opera stream, but the Met Stars Live in Concert series ~ and I’ve seen three of them so far, with Jonas, Renee Fleming, and Roberto Alagna and his wife, Aleksandra Kurzak, and so thoroughly enjoyed them all!
The latter, set on a platform above a beautiful Mediterranean vista, was so much fun, and particularly the duet from L’Elisir d’Amore, that I finally watched my first L’Elisir! I can’t believe I hadn’t seen one yet. It was a subtitled 1997 version from Lyon, with a very young Roberto Alagna ~ whose Nemorino was very reminiscent of a clumsy, adorable, hapless Charlie Chaplin ~ and Angela Gheorghiu. The whole cast did a lovely job, and the two leads were so delightful.
If anyone else has beautiful, inspiring, or just downright funny and delightful operas to recommend, I’d love to hear them! Meanwhile, here’s a virtual toast to art, opera, opera friendships, and laughter! And prayers for all of our beloved artists worldwide, and for our suffering world.
Speaking of “malaise,” the overworked pace of 2018 kept me on a restricted opera regimen–and, actually, a restricted regimen of any life outside of work!–and I regretted having missed most of the Met’s HDs and radio broadcasts and many of the other broadcasts I would love to have seen and heard. (I’ve generally been MIA from my favorite opera groups online. I miss my dear opera pals so much!) However, things are looking up, and on this restful Sunday morning I’ve been spending time reviewing the recent announcements on the Met’s 2019-2020 season, both on stage (radio, for me!) and cinema.
On a few underwhelming notes, what we do have are some of the standby, albeit beautiful Zeffirelli productions–La BohΓ¨me, Turandot. (Frankly, I was hoping that they wouldn’t HD the latter again until Jonas Kaufmann finally sings Calaf.) We have an Anna Netrebko feast, with her special concert, as well as the reprisal of her Lady Macbeth and Tosca roles. But we also have Marco Berti back, and Aleksandrs Antonenko.
But I’d rather stick to a few more exciting, positive highlights:
To hear the great Luca Pisaroni‘s Guglielmo and Gerald Finley‘s Don Alfonso in CosΓ¬ fan tutte, although not an HD of the season, alas.
The return of Sir Bryn Terfel, in Der Fliegende HollΓ€nder, conducted by Valery Gergiev in a new production.
Stars such as ElΔ«na GaranΔa, Bryan Hymel, and Ildar Abdrazakov in Berlioz’s Faust.
Morris Robinson’s Sarastro, although the shorter, English Magic Flute.
Diana Damrau and Jamie Barton in Maria Stuarda.
Angel Blue and Eric Owens in Porgy and Bess.
Luca Pisaroni again, as Figaro in the Nov/Dec Nozze.
Luca Salsi as Germont in Feb/March La Traviata–though I’m not overall a huge fan of the opera–and Quinn Kelsey in the Jan/early-Feb performances.
Kate Lindsey and Joyce DiDonato in Agrippina.
Other intriguing cast members: Peter Mattei and Tamara Mumford (Wozzeck); Roberto in BohΓ¨me; roles with Matthew Polenzani, Javier Camarena, and the great Ε½eljko LuΔiΔ.
I decided to write this after being informed about the announcement by my dear opera pal Gaby, but before getting back on my beloved opera groups, and I’m intrigued to hear others’ reactions. Similarly underwhelmed? Or perhaps intrigued and inspired? I’d like it to be contagious, if the latter.
In any case, here’s to a new season–not to mention, grateful for a lineup of fantastic performers–and, hopefully, pleasant surprises.
I know it has been a long time since I have posted. The sadness after Dima’s death nearly a year ago, followed by a nearly relentlessly unpredictable and busy schedule at work, has made it difficult to finally piece together many different ideas and experiences I’ve been wanting to write about. Notes are scattered in many places, waiting to be utilized!
So this is, essentially, only a brief note about a wonderful four days in New York City ~ my first time ever ~ with, I hope, more details to follow. Merely dipping the toe back in the opera posting…and if you are facebook friends with me, this brief summary will be a repeat.
My mom Debra and I made our first ever pilgrimage to the Metropolitan Opera on the trip, starting out with Tosca with the stunning Sondra Radvanovsky, Ε½eljko LuΔiΔ, Patrick J. Carfizzi, and Joseph Calleja, and we were so delighted to be able to meet some of them after, with the aid of the indefatigable opera friend, Sophia Cerovsek. Tosca was a gorgeous production all around.
And of course the beautiful Fanciulla production which was captured and streamed live in HD yesterday…what can I say? Jonas, you broke my heart yet again…a perfect performance that I can’t wait to see again ~ with close-ups! ~ at the cinema encore this Wednesday night as I dash off from work. I was a wreck again in Acts I and III, moved mostly by the heartbreaking richness of his dark voice. Ε½eljko LuΔiΔ was a gorgeous Rance…so beautifully done. (I also can’t wait to see his close-ups because I adore watching his face.) Eva-Maria was absolutely fantastic, and the whole cast and production was strong all around…it was an unforgettable day.
But one of the most unforgettable things about this trip has been the opportunity to finally meet some of my dear, long-distance opera friends in person: Laura, Blake, Dash, Sophia, Peter, Joanna, and other friends from the lively Met Live In HD Fans group. It has been a true blessing, and is a large part of the huge joy that is opera obsession.
As I write on this final day in NYC, sleepy but happy, I am thinking with gratitude about all the wonderful friends near and far who share their joy of opera, and with huge gratitude to the artists who remind us why we work and live, and who bring such beauty into our lives.
It will be back to the usual work grind for me personally on Tuesday, but I have more determination than ever not to let work take over my life. Starting with Wednesday evening: nothing will induce me to stay late at work and miss the Fanciulla encore! π Viva Puccini!! πΆπ΅πππππππ Bravi tutti!!!!!!!!!!!!
Johnson (Jonas Kaufmann) being won over by Minnie (Nina Stemme)
One of the first opera DVDs my family and I bought after the opera obsession started was the 2013 Vienna production of Pucciniβs La Fanciulla del West, with Jonas Kaufmann and Nina Stemme. (Perhaps because it was one of the less pricey among other Jonas DVDs, and also because Nina was in it too.) None of us had any familiarity with the opera. After all, we, like many, when thinking of Puccini, thought of Turandot, La BohΓ¨me, and Madama Butterfly. Perhaps Manon Lescaut. La Fanciulla del West seems to be ranked somewhere in the βlesser works,β if we were to judge by what strikes this newbie as its relative neglect. Anyhow, this will be another βthematicβ post, on an opera that grows on me daily…and anyone reading this has any recommendations for recordings that are available, or written works about this opera, Iβd be very grateful!
(Note: spoilers ahead. Also note: the translations I use below–aside from my own parenthetical notes, as well as the βchβella mi creda liberoβ–are those of Bill Parker in the libretto for the CD recording of the 1956 La Scala production with Corelli, Gobbi, and Frazzoni, copyright 2007 by Allegro Corp.)
A Synopsisβ¦
The story of La Fanciulla del West (The Girl of the West, based on the stage play The Girl of the Golden West by David Belasco) is set in 1849-1850 βGold Rushβ California, in a mining camp, opening in the Polka Saloon where Minnieβidolized by all of the miners and sought after most avidly by the Sheriff of the town, Jack Ranceβworks, as well as has her little βacademyβ for the miners, reading to them and teaching them about Scripture (though she feels her own education has been sadly neglected). Ashby, a Wells Fargo agent, enters the scene, having tracked the bandit Ramerrez and his thieving gang for the past three months, and having a lead from Ramerrezβ supposed lover, Nina Micheltorena, that Ramerrez is nearby. Meanwhile, a strangerβwhom Minnie has met once beforeβenters the saloon under the name of βJohnson,β and love begins to blossom between Minnieβwho has as yet managed to escape being so much as kissed, in spite of growing up amongst men who all adore herβand the stranger. In Act II, Johnson visits Minnie at her home up in the mountains. (Again, the words βlontanoβ–distant, far awayβare used in relation to Minnieβs dwelling.) Johnson βstealsβ her first kissβbut shortly after, Rance and his men, having followed the trail to her house, question Minnie about Johnsonβs whereaboutsβwhile he remains hiddenβand, before they leave, reveal to her that the one she knows of as βJohnsonβ is actually the bandit Ramerrez. She feels betrayed and sends Johnson out into the snowy night; Johnson becomes wounded, and only eludes capture when Rance returns to Minnieβs home by losing to a game of poker which Minnie has proposed (and cheated onβan echo and contrast to the original βjusticeβ shown the cheater at cards in Act I): if he wins, Rance can take both her, and Johnson; if Rance loses, he has to let Johnson goβwho will then belong to Minnie. Act III sees the bandit ready to hang; he is then again savedβin more ways than oneβby Minnie. They fulfill the dream that has been a constant throughout the ups and downs of their relationship: to go away, to a far distant land (βlontanoβ).
βLa Fanciullaβ as parable; a βfar awayβ sensibility
In my first encounter, I was often moved, and particularly in moments such as the Act III aria, βChβella mi creda libero e lontanoβ–βLet her believe that Iβm free and far away,β–which has become my favorite Puccini aria. But except for such moments and the beauty of the performances of the two leads in the Vienna production–no one breaks the heart like Jonas and Nina, and in my last viewing of it I was sobbing in Act I–it wasnβt entirely love at first encounter with the opera itself. I no doubt smiled, perhaps even laughed, at first hearing the stereotyped names, and the βAmericanisms,β from the βHello, hello!β chorus in the opening, to βWhiskey per tutti!β (Itβs a stereotype, perhaps, that Italians are in love with Western Americana, but Iβm sure thereβs something to it, as film Westerns Γ la Sergio Leone have been referred to as βspaghetti Westerns.β Though, I daresay, few are in love with anything American at this moment–okay, political dig over for this post.) But, somehow, as we get further into the opera, weβre swept away, not unlike the miners in the story hearing the distant ballad of Jack Wallace, pining for their own homeland and their own families; there is in us too a kind of nostalgia for a lost time, or sensibility.
It is a sensibility that is distant, far away (“lontano”), like the memories of home, or childhood, or, perhaps, the hope of redemption.
Such sensibilities are familiar to me not only from my lifelong love of Dickens, butβmore applicable hereβto a time, years back, when I was delving into reading Victorian and Edwardian stage melodramas, replete with sentiment, outrageous plots, and βunlikelyβ lead characters. In Fanciulla, which was based on the stage play by David Belasco, The Girl of the Golden West, we have a bandit-with-a-heart-of-gold (Dick Johnson, aka Ramerrez), and a rougher Little Dorrit-type in Minnie, who seems somehow as miraculously pure and unaffected by her somewhat unsavory surroundingsβnot only that, but making the most of them and raising those around herβas the quieter Dickensian heroine.
So, whatever my relationship with Fanciulla was at the outset, this opera has grown on me over time, and attached itself to me inextricably. I am almost tempted to say it is my favorite Puccini overallβif we are looking at an opera as a whole, because itβs frankly impossible to beat Act I of Turandot, the Act I finale of Tosca, or innumerable other sequences and arias from βE lucevan le stelleβ to βNessun dormaβ–nor do we have as compelling a villain as Scarpia.
But in Fanciulla, I am more and more struck by a special kind of consistency and unity in the themes and orchestration; the sound itself which is something entirely unique. (Except that many a film composer has stolen blindly from it since, in my opinion–having grown up watching movies, John Ford and Sergio Leone included.) I donβt know how to put my finger on it, but Puccini has managed to capture the βWesternβ sound as we now associate it with the Western film…and this, in an opera which premiered in 1910! (It premiered at the Metropolitan opera, conducted by Arturo Toscanini, with Enrico Caruso as Johnson.) I sometimes wonder: Did Puccini help invent what we βhearβ when we recall βWesternβ film scores?
Themes/Motifs
And not only an overall consistency of sound and motif, but Puccini has nailed the music-theme-echoing-the-subjectβs-theme in some mysterious way which Iβll try to give a few examples of, as I heardβor feltβthem, using names that I associate with each. (I may well need correction by those who are more experienced with this opera.) I’ll use this youtube version of the whole 2013 Vienna production–regretfully, there are no English subtitles in the YT version–as a point of reference for the time tags in my comments below:
1. The βlontanoβ/βfar away, distantβ theme (nostalgic, looking back)
Of course, the overture gives us an overview of some of the main themes. After that, what I call the βlontano themeβ in the Jack Wallace ballad that is echoed again at certain key moments. There is something about the genre of the βWesternβ that calls out for this kind of nostalgia…first heard in the above video (from a distance) at 6:54.
I have also since learned that βlontanoβ is also a musical term, meaning βdistant,β or βfar away.β
2. Minnieβs theme/savior theme
A hero’s entrance: Barbara Daniels as Minnie, Metropolitan Opera, 1992
Of course, βMinnieβs themeβ is evident (heard in the above at about 18:13): she has one of the grand entrances in opera. It was, for me, one weakness of the Vienna production, that it didnβt make the most of her entrance, especially with a Minnie as stellar as Nina Stemme! The Met-on-Demand version from 1992, with Placido Domingo, Barbara Daniels, and a wonderfully slick and threatening Sherrill Milnes, does this better. (And I generally liked the set/production better in the 1992 version as well, though I far prefer the singing/acting/interpretation of the two leads of Stemme/Kaufmann over any Iβve yet seen or heard.) The production that really hits the nail on the head with Minnieβs entrance is the the La Scala production from 2016, recommended by Blake, can still be seen at this linkβand is a great example of an entrance (and thematically does some truly wonderful and inventive things which highlight the nostalgia for the Western film in a very direct hommage…if you love classic cinema, and/or specifically classic Westerns, watch at least the first 5 minutes and youβll be hooked…). You really want her entering in silhouette, with her gun, against a sunset backgroundβ¦
Minnieβs theme is again repeated as a kind of βheroβ theme: again, in her timely entrance in Act III, to save Johnson/Ramerrez from the rope.
3. The redemption theme/Ramerrez theme
This is one that kills me, and has one of the best payoffs of any theme, ever. We first hear a hint of it (after the overture) around 23:55 as Minnie explains the meaning of Psalm 51 to the miners:
βWash me and I shall be white as snow. Create in my breast a pure heart, and renew within me an elect spirit…β
(My note: enter βredemption themeβ here:) That means, boys, thereβs no sinner in the whole world to whom the way of redemption is not openβ¦
The “lontano” theme comes back again here too.
A tortured Johnson, aka Ramerrez (Jonas Kaufmann, Vienna, 2013)
The redemption theme comes back as Johnsonβs initial goalβrobbing the Polka saloon of their goldβbegins to slip away through the influence of Minnie, and he finally declares his help: βNo one would dare to touch the gold.β
But in each repetition, the redemption theme is not quite βresolvedβ; the theme drifts away before it can come to a satisfying conclusionβuntil, that is, one of the best payoffs in any opera: Johnsonβs identity aria in Act II, where he tells his story and admits to being the bandit Ramerrez. (And again, in another way, at the very end of the opera–when all of these themes are woven together.) In this version, the whole βstoryβ aria is from about 1:24:15-1:27:38, but the βredemption themeβ comes in at the words about how he began to pray to God not to let her know his true identity: 1:26:44-1:27:38.
Just a word! I wonβt defend myself: Iβm a thief! I know, I know! But I wouldnβt have robbed you! I am Ramerrez; born a vagabond, βThiefβ was my name from the day I came into the world. But I never knew it while my father was living. Itβs been six months since my father diedβ¦ The only wealth he left me, to care for my mother and brothers, was his paternal legacy: a gang of common thieves! I had to accept it. That was my destiny! But one day I met you. I dreamed of going far away with you, (my note: again, βlontanoβ), redeeming everything with a life of work and love.
(my note: enter βredemption themeβ¦) My lips murmured a fervent prayer: Oh God! Let her never know of my shame! Alas! The dream was in vain! Now, Iβm finishedβ¦
4. Another βlontanoβ theme (forward-looking, future-oriented)
One of my favorite themes, but which is never quite resolved in the way that I somehow wish it to beβbut it is somehow achingly perfectβis a theme introduced in Act II, when, after again pointing out that Minnieβs home itself is βfar awayβ from the world, and where one βcan feel Godβs presenceβ, she talks about her βacademy,β and that she herself is the teacher. (See 1:08:38 in the above.) This theme comes in several times in this tender scene in Minnieβs home (particularly 1:14:00 to 1:15:14), climaxing in the moment when they sing together (1:14:23): βDolce vivere e morir, e non lasciarci piΓΉβ/βSo sweet to live and die and never again to partβ.
Afterthoughts: βChβella mi creda libero e lontano…β
The above themes are just a few of my favorites that I wanted to make special mention of. This may be the first of many discussions of La Fanciulla, as Iβm about to read the Belasco stage play on which this opera was based, and perhaps eventually get around to his novelized version of it, free via Google books.
But I canβt leave off a first discussion of this opera without bringing in a sample of my favorite Puccini aria, βChβella mi creda libero.β Here again, the word βlontano.β (I wonder how often that word is repeated in the libretto?) Johnsonβs only request before death is that they allow Minnie to believe that he is βfree and far away, on a new path of redemptionβ; the βlontanoβ that is a motif both forward and backward-looking in this opera, seems to signify a new life, freedom; a new path; redemption; a pilgrimage to a distant land. Something lost, something found. How ironic that so much of what we think of as the romantic βWestβ (more myth than tangible reality) is the notion of βgoing Westβ itself; towards the horizon. Here, in Fanciulla, they are already βWestβ; the distant land they are looking for is more the interior transformation than a geographical βWest.β
This version (which may not be viewable in certain countries…in which case you can see a shortened, too-hastily cut-off version here), is one that I play over and over again, and although the βChβella mi credaβ doesnβt begin until halfway through, it is worth listening to from the beginning–βRisparmiate lo schernoβ/”Spare me your sneers” etc, and especially the soaring notes just before “Ch’ella mi creda libero,” translated here:
Let her believe that Iβm free and far away, upon a new path of redemption! Sheβll wait for my return and the days will pass, and the days will pass, and I will not, no, I will not returnβ¦ Minnie, youβre the only flower of my life, Minnie, who has loved me so much!–So much! Ah! Youβre the only flower of my life!
It was a blog post on Mozartβs CosΓ¬ fan tutte that finally inspired me to try seeing a production of it. (Yay for opera enablers!! Thank you Blake!!) But I didnβt stop at one. In about a weekβs time, or just a little over, Iβve seen three different recordings of this extraordinarily beautiful opera–usually in time snatched far too late at night for me–and the glorious music has been in my head all week like a haunting, friendly spirit.
If you would like a Cliffsβ Notes version of what will probably shape up to be a wordy blog ***or if you arenβt familiar with the story ofCosΓ¬ fan tutte yet (in which case, spoilers!)*** here are my highlights:
2. I highly recommend S. Blake Duncanβs blogs for deeper appreciation after you’ve seen it, particularly: In Defense of CosΓ¬, and my personal favorite, More on CosΓ¬ fan Tutte. My discovery of all three of the productions that I’ll mention here is the direct result of his recommendations and these wonderful posts. (Again, many thanks…!) I was grateful not only for the sensitive insight of a musicianβI so especially appreciated the discussion of the βsoundβ of winds, like the winds of change, in the orchestration, as well as the discussion of βil core vi donoβ and the other pieces throughoutβbut one of historical perspective in the face of modern sensibilities which are, on the surface, somewhat at odds with the exquisite Mozart/Da Ponte work.
First productions…
The first recording that I watched of this opera, just over a week ago now, was the 2014 production from Met on Demand, with Isabel Leonard, Susanna Phillips, and Matthew Polenzaniβand Danielle de Niece as a bright and spunky Despina. A charming, winning production, beautifully done by all.
Luca Pisaroni (Guglielmo) and Miah Persson (Fiordiligi)
The second, and my favorite as a whole, was the one I chose for my birthday movie: the magical, bright 2006 Glyndebourne production with Luca Pisaroni (I was sold, right there!), Miah Persson, a very handsome Nicolas Rivenq, Topi Lehtipuu, and Anke Vondung. (As of this post, itβs available free if you have Amazon Prime, at least in the US!) It really captures the lighthearted as well as bittersweet/painful elements in the brilliant story, and the singers portray the characters with a winning tenderness, exquisitely sung. Luca’s portrayal of hurtful resentment I found especially compelling.
The third, although I regrettably had to break it up into a number of viewings, and not with the full concentration I would like to have given it, is another beauty from 1992, which as of this posting can still be found at this link, with English subtitles. I’d like to see it again, all in one sitting. But I thought the set, costumes, and ensemble were all a treat. I particularly enjoyed the voice and performance of Rodney Gilfry as Guglielmo here. (The scene where Ferrando woos Fiordiligi, with Guglielmo looking on…ouch…) And the ending…fitting and lovely.
The very title, CosΓ¬ fan tutte, seems to present a challenge for us, as though suggesting that troubles with constancy is a βwomanβs problemβ; I wonβt go into the reasons for thinking of this differently, as was so well done by the articles mentioned above. Nor do I think in this case, like Jane Austen’s Anne in Persuasion, that “men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story”–agreed, yes; but Mozart and Da Ponte were both ahead of their time here in the implications of this opera. I personally think that had the plot gone in the other direction, with the women testing the fidelity of the men, the results would likely enough have been the same in Mozart and Da Ponteβs story…in fact, as Despinaβs many comments suggest, that idea is a given. No need to test it, in her mind.
In this character-sextetβthe two couples, Don Alfonso, and DespinaβDespina is clearly the mirror of Don Alfonso, even though his opposite in gender and station. Theyβre not romantics. Despinaβs words to her mistresses are as cutting as any, as the ladies pine for the men who must leave them:
To hope for faithfulness in men, in soldiers? Donβt let people hear you, for heavenβs sake! All men are made of the same stuff; the swaying boughs, the fickle breezes have greater stability than men have.
The βproblemβ here is not about womensβ constancy, nor their submission (a problem that haunts Shakespeareβs The Taming of the Shrew, for example). When I consider CosΓ¬, the more intriguing “problem” for me is the human story itself. The trick Don Alfonso and the men play is warranted in the context of a farce–and to view it with excessive sobriety is surely not the intent. We can’t forget that it IS a farce. I mean, we very willingly suspend disbelief as the ladies are βtrickedβ by their ownβor their sistersβ–betrothed husbands. And simply because theyβre disguised in exotic costumes and wearing outrageous mustacchi? Theyβre fooled by the idea of magnets extracting poison from the bodies of the ridiculously convulsing men who were driven to suicide out of love at first sight? Itβs delightfully outrageous…and weβre having fun along the way.
But…there is a “but,” in my mind. Just as with Shakespeare, who always managed to make things more humanly complicated and interesting than any genre would ever require, so too Mozart and Da Ponte are just too darn interesting, brilliant, and poignant in their creation to make it only a send-up, or only a comedy. We may just as often want to weep as to laugh. How will the characters recover from this? Will they? And not only the romances, but–I always seem to worry about this especially–the friendships of the men, both of whom have succeeded in making the other’s betrothed unfaithful.
Yes, the music is so glorious and the libretto so captivating as to make us pause.
It does have the element of the Shakespearean problem play, in that there is an ostensibly βhappyβ ending, not without room for interpretation. “Interpretation” not as in conceptualizing, nor trying to appease a 21st century audience, but character interpretation. A pause, a doubt, a hesitation, an unexpected nuance. As I left each production, floating in the clouds at some of the most beautiful music ever written, and happy…I still had that lurking feeling afterwards: but will they really be okay?
I wouldn’t compare the two, as CosΓ¬ is a little more Twelfth Night than Measure for Measure, but in the latter (again, spoiler alert!) we are following a character who seems to possess a sort of omnicient, Godlike perspective on the playβs situation, Duke Vincentio. He is ever observing, testing…even manipulating events into submission. (Itβs a good thing that heβs a decent character, or else everyone would be in trouble.) But after bringing justice to a messed-up situation, the play ends with him confidently declaring his love to a nun, Isabellaβnevermind that, not long before, we were so disturbed by Angeloβs proposal to her. Sure, we might think: obviously, Angeloβs was a rotten dealβbut the Duke, well, heβs a decent guy…he’s not blackmailing her, although she does, one might say, owe him…But he must really love her and want what’s best for her. And really, sheβs only a novice at the convent, and maybe she doesnβt really want to be a nun in the first place. But still…still. Itβs more than a little disconcerting. One can interpret it so that the ending is left openβand indeed, the best version Iβve seen of it literally has the lights fade on the sight of the handsome, commanding Duke standing with an outstretched hand towards an ambivalent Isabella. What will happen? Much of what we are left to imagine will depend on the trajectory of what has gone before, and the characterization of each.
So, back to CosΓ¬. It is a lighthearted romp, and something in the category of magical realism. When I first heard the overture, there is a stong, confident buoyancy…suggestive of the later refrain of “CosΓ¬fan tutte” and the sharpness of, say, βcome scoglio immoto restaβ, which then melts into moments of something…unexpected, bittersweet.
Such is the melting required of the menβs hearts at the end, if all is to be well. One hopes that all will be well…but something is off. But even if the couples are βreallyβ okay–which is not absolutely certain–such wisdom, tenderness, and forgiveness as the ending requires is not likely to happen in a moment. I think the reverse kind of forgiveness needs to happen too: we have to remember that it is a send-up, because, really, the men have played a pretty unkind trick.
So, no, we don’t quite know how things would turn out, and it would have taken a Mozart and Da Ponte to write the kind of sequel poignant enough to do justice to a perfectly imperfect situation.
Some of the most beautiful moments in the opera are based on an imperfect situation, such as βil core vi dono,β surely one of the most beautiful and poignant love duets ever written. If it werenβt for that one major caveatβthe trickery involvedβit would surely be the consummate love duet. Hereβs the same link shared in Blake’s blog posts above mentioned, which made me seek out this marvelous Glyndebourne production:
Other moments have been running incessantly through my head all week, such as Ferrandoβs βun’aura amorosaβ (beautifully done at this link by Lawrence Brownlee), or the, for me, literally show-stoppingly beautiful farewell trio between Fiordiligi, Dorabella, and Don Alfonso, as the two men (so the ladies think) leave for the battlefield. When I first heard this trio, “soave sia il vento” (a link here to a version sung by Renee Fleming, Thomas Hampson, and Susan Graham), I could hardly go on…I had to listen again. It is transcendent…and the “wind” sound in the strings so perfect…one feels at sea:
Nicolas Rivenq as Don Alfonso. (Seriously, were I a man, I’d wear a coat and scarf just like that…)
And Don Alfonso: are we supposed to necessarily βlikeβ–or think that we should think likeβDon Alfonso or Despina, simply because theyβre proven right? I personally donβt think so. Hopefully most of us still believe that fidelity is not only possible, but necessary…but also that forgiveness in the midst of frailty is possible, and necessary. So, as long as we stay in the realm of farce, where the old jokes about infidelity and inconstancy are given free rein, sure, Don Alfonso and Despina are fun to watch and listen to, and most certainly not villains. But the fact that they are βexperiencedβ doesnβt make them wiser or more compassionate. They give the two fellows the lesson needed, but not how to deal with it after. I thought of the line from the 1999 film The Winslow Boy, based on the Terence Rattigan play: it is βeasy to do justice; very hard to do right.β What Don Alfonso did and the point he was trying to make might have been a just one…but was it right? Those who love each other build the other up ~ they don’t tear the other down. Weβre all damaged goods. What if we strove to nurture and treasure the beloved into greater health and wholeness, rather than to question, doubt, or challenge it to an external ideal?
That, hopefully, is what theyβre left with at the end to consider and to live out, but it’s not what they lived in the story. And it doesn’t necessarily justify Don Alfonso’s attitude, his cynicism and mocking of genuine emotion and ideals. (We really need ideals, at least for ourselves…the old adage about shooting for the moon and landing on the barn roof might be applicable here. One of our many tendencies as human beings is to fall short of our ideals anyway; if we only shoot for the barn roof we arenβt even going to get off the ground.) Did they really have to break the βotherβ first in order to realize that their beloved women were indeed women and not angelic beings? Perhaps. It doesnβt make it right.
But where would the story be otherwise?
Whatever the case, the very βproblemsβ add to the captivating beauty of this opera for me. Part delightful farce, part something decidedly more. So much more. Like Shakespeare, Mozart and Da Ponte cannot help making it more. (Though Verdi’s Don Carlo has the edge for all-time favorite operas, with Don Giovanni being more or less tied with it, Mozart is certainly now my favorite composer.) The complications involved with this opera make it an even greater source of interest, beauty, humor, and pathos…like life itself. It is a delightful, bittersweet, gloriously beautiful work that has haunted me all week, and I am already looking forward to delving ever deeper, finding new productions, and revisiting these, particularly the Glyndebourne. The lines that consummate the heart-rending love duet sum up my feelings of this first CosΓ¬ week perfectly:
βChe nuovi diletti! Che dolce penar!β(βWhat new delights! What sweet pain!β)
The passionate opera community on Facebook is a real treasure. Two of the online places that Iβve been frequenting include the Met Opera Live in HD Fans group, and its smaller sister-group, Sirius Opera Fans. The former is focused primarily on discussing the live cinema screenings from the Metropolitan Opera.Β (Special note: Verdi’s Nabucco–conducted by James Levine and starring Placido Domingo–is being broadcast live in HD from the Met in only about 9 hours from the time of this post, on Jan. 7th, 12:55pm ET/9:55am PST, to a number of local cinemas!) Yet, outside of the immediate Met broadcast focus, there are many shares and conversations surrounding other opera events, performances, birthdays, and historical gems worldwide. Many members have a wealth of knowledge and insight into opera–they’re the best “enablers” of opera addiction out there! Sirius Opera Fans is primarily for those who listen to the Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts, whether that be the Met channel on Sirius XM Radio, or another station. Some are the live broadcasts from the Met, and many are archived treasures. Either way, itβs a chance for opera lovers to listen to a broadcast together, and share the joy through a running commentary.
One weekly post that became something of a βfixtureβ in the Sirius groupβmany of us began to rely on itβwas that shared by Mr. Robert W. White. Thus, we were all in shock and mourning to learn, on Dec 17, of Mr. Whiteβs passing the previous day. (The only clue might have been the slight gap in his usual postings, his final having been December 3rd.) I did not know him personally, so I’m only sharing thoughts as one relative newbie among many members who benefited from his contributions in this group and elsewhere. But for a little background, his obituary can be found at this link, thanks to one of the group members. It sounds like he was as giving in his personal life as he was with his opera friends.
Mr. White joined the Sirius group in November of 2015, and began sharing his weekly posts there in February of 2016. Besides giving us the schedule of operas to be broadcast on Sirius the following week, Mr. White would include his own comments and recommendations on these individual broadcasts that he had written down over the years as an avid opera-goer and listener.
Mr. White never minced words, and his posts were peppered with comments like the following: βRysanek bids farewell to Verdi at the Met with a whimperβ (on the Verdi Otello broadcast of 2/15/1964); or βSereniβs limitations as Luna are only in comparison to Warren or Bastianini, not todayβs rather pitiful crop of Verdi baritonesβ (on the Il Trovatore broadcast of 3/31/71). Certain motifs are evident in his comments, over time. For example, he didn’t consider himself much of a “Rossinian,” except perhaps for a love of Il Barbiere. We read above what he generally thought of baritones in the last decade and a half. He perhaps had a tendency to favor Marton, or SiepiβI say “amen!” to the latter!–but he would never hesitate to say which recordings represented anyone in stronger or weaker voice. (I still have not discovered a mention of Cesare Siepi as being “out of form,” however. My own theory is that “the lion Siepi”–Mr. White’s title for him–was never out of form!) Too, Mr. White gave fascinating historical tidbits to add to the appreciation, whether it was that a certain production had been postponed due to the JFK assassination, or whether it was a conductor’s last recorded performance of a composer’s music.
Whether one agreed with him or not on his viewsβand heβd be the first to comment that they were only his preferencesβhe was always worth paying attention to, as his perspective came from many years of dedicated listening, and he had a vast well of knowledge which he drew on. His praise was worth the earning; if he said of a production that it was βhighly recommendedβ–such as the 3/6/1954 Il Barbiere di Siviglia with Corena, Merrill, Peters, Valletti, and Siepi which I have playing in the background as I write thisβone figured it was the real deal.
So, yes, Mr. White is much missed; yet, his presence is still there in the group, and will always be treasured.
One of our Sirius group members has started posting weekly schedules as he is able, in the tradition of Mr. White, and some of us are working on compiling his posts (currently in the Sirius group in draft form) into a database organized alphabetically by composer and opera, with comment highlights and links from each opera entry, to the applicable document that Mr. White shared with us. Likely, there are many other postings of his in his other groups prior to February of 2016. To begin to organize the many wonderful comments he shared with us has been a labor of love, and, most certainly, a work-in-progress. Speaking for myself, Iβve learned a great deal, and have taken many personal notes.
Of course, one can still see Mr. White’s original postings in the Sirius Opera Fans group, or get the link to the database-in-progress there. And of course, feel free to come on over and join–and of course the larger Met Live in HD Fans, which is the main group–if you have an interest in experiencing opera on the radio, with friends!
And to our always-remembered friend Mr. White, thank you for sharing your wealth of knowledge and experience with us. Weβll keep listening and posting, in your memory.
Happy New Year everyone. And, as Mr. White would typically end his weekly notes with, βHappy listeningβ!
Oscar Wilde said that “the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it”. Well, apparently I’ve been following this advice with the opera addiction. The subtitle to this post might be: “Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Give into My Met-On-Demand Addiction”. (It might also be subtitled: “The Month of the Bass and Baritone”.)
What enabled me to watch an unusual amount of recorded opera this month is that I happened to be, at several points, involved in an aspect of my sewing work which is too rare: that which allows for multitasking! (Mostly the hand-sewing part, which alone took a good 18 hours lately. YES!) So…here goes! Not necessarily in the order in which I watched them.
Thanks to my friend and enabler, Viv, and partly inspired by seeing the recent HD cinema showing of the current Don Giovanni with Simon Keenlyside–which I had mixed feelings about overall, but enjoyed, particularly Simon himself–I finally watched the 2011 Don Giovanni (same set/production) with Mariusz Kwiecien, Luca Pisaroni, Ε tefan KocΓ‘n, Marina Rebeka, Barbara Frittoli, and RamΓ³n Vargas.
Oh my. I have fallen in love with this opera all over again, and simply cannot get it out of my head. Mariusz is a most charming, seductive Don, and what shall we say of Luca? I see why he is a legend in this role of Leporello ~ vocally, it just doesn’t get better, but added to that is an impeccable comic timing and complete naturalness in the role. I particularly loved the way Mariusz and Luca play off one another ~ I have never seen a production which captures so well the relationship between Giovanni and Leporello, love-hate though it is, as Luca has expressed his interpretation in a recent interview…however much they may betray one another, is not unlike a dysfunctional married couple, each knowing the other so well. There are even moments of tenderness. When the Don makes his final act of defiance to agree to come to dinner with the Commendatore, there is a moment of farewell between them, which I have not quite seen anything like. (And indeed, Luca’s Leporello looks somewhat lost without his villainous master in the final minutes…)
This production captured the comedy of this incredible opera, and both the direction and the conducting–Fabio Luisi–kept a sprightly pace. In fact, the whole production felt sprightly and energetic! The Anna–dang, she’s great!–Elvira, Masetto, and Zerlina were also wonderful. I went from moments of irrepressible laughter–such as when Leporello imitates the Don in seducing Donna Elvira–to tears, as in Mariusz’s “deh vieni alla finestra”…yes, that charming Don manages to seduce his audience every bit as much as he did the 1800+ ladies.
Then, there was the new-to-me discovery of the glorious bass Ε tefan KocΓ‘n, the Commendatore! Wow! (Thank you, Gabriela, you were so right!!) It was some time before I could move on to the rest of the opera after the Commendatore’s death in the opening, so beautiful was his final minute of singing with Giovanni and Leporello that I had to rewatch it again and again. (By this point I must have watched that moment probably two dozen times altogether.) And of course, at the end, he returns in a most gloriously haunting finale…
All this, in a production that was done only 2 weeks after Mariusz had back surgery! Amazing. Needless to say, I highly recommend it. If you haven’t already fallen in love with this opera, this production will probably do the trick. π
Be prepared for tears on this one. Not so much due to the operatic tragedy of the story, as the reception by the Met audience and orchestra of beloved Dmitri Hvorostovsky, who returned to his role of the Count di Luna after the announcement of his brain tumor and the months of chemotherapy that followed. (Just wait until the final bows and curtain calls…have tissues handy!)
This was only the second time I’ve seen a recorded production of this opera. I marvel at the vocal gymnastics that are required of our leads, and Anna Netrebko had me breathless as Leonora, particularly in her Act IV arias…dang! Dmitri, of course, shone as the Count di Luna, with such a powerful stage presence alongside the extraordinary bass Ε tefan KocΓ‘n as Ferrando…amazing! Dolora Zajick was a wonderful Azucena, and I very much liked Younghoon Lee as Manrico ~ very dynamic.
Loved the Goyaesque set and the period costume. Overall, a beautiful production.
Now looking forward to seeing the earlier Trovatore, from 2011…!
Another lighthearted moment was the Met’s Le Nozze di Figaro from the 2014-15 season (available on Met on Demand), with Ildar Abdrazakov, one of my favorite bass voices! Again, as familiar as much of the music is to me, I’d never seen a production and didn’t know how delightful and hilarious it is! I loved it. Ildar, as the witty servant Figaro, couldn’t be more adorable if he tried, and Peter Mattei (wow, another beautiful voice, and a new favorite!) as the womanizing Count Almaviva was just fantastic. The whole cast was delightful, and had me laughing up in the workshop…
After the wonderful 2015 Il Trovatore that I watched the previous week, I watched the same wonderful David McVicar production–with some of the same cast, notably Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Ε tefan KocΓ‘n, and Dolora Zajick–in their earlier 2011 production, and was intrigued and delighted with the similarities and differences. It’s really hard to choose overall.
In both, Dima shines as the Count di Luna, Ε tefan KocΓ‘n is an irresistably ruthless bass Ferrando, and Dolora Zajick strikes me as a master of the gypsy Azucena. But here we have a different Leonora and Manrico, sung in 2011 by Sondra Radvanovsky and Marcelo Alvarez. While I thoroughly appreciated the Netrebko/Lee combination of 2015, and vocally it is really hard to choose–and I am naturally a little more drawn to Netrebko’s vocal quality–yet I must say Sondra really won me over in this role, and particularly the chemistry between her and Marcelo, who was also a very endearing and strong Manrico. The character interpretation of Leonora was less melancholy than Netrebko’s, and one really gets behind Sondra, whose expressive face and adoring love for Manrico are so evident. I thoroughly enjoyed both, but I must give the edge to the Radvanovsky/Alvarez combination for our two leads. (That being said, if one has time for only one of the two productions, I might choose the 2015 if for nothing else than the beautiful reception for Dima, and the endearing and heart-wrenching applause and roses for him at the end…)
Both are so beautifully and feelingly conducted by Valery Gergiev, and there is a wonderful behind-the-scenes mini-documentary on this after the 2007 stream.
I will be rewatching both versions again and again no doubt, but particularly the 2007 version, which will probably go down as one of my favorite opera productions.ππ
It’s a huge joy to be part of the Sirius Opera Fans group and Met Opera Live in HD Fans group (both on Facebook), which have been such inspiring places to discuss opera love, to learn, and to share insight. (And to find more opera-enablers!! π )