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.
“That’s what I like about Shakespeare, the pictures.” ~Al Pacino, “Looking for Richard”
This blog post might as well have been titled “…And he can sing, too!” which happens to be another of the joking lines that are often used by my family in relation to the all-around marvel that is Jonas Kaufmann.
I finally caved and bought “the picture book,” as I was mentally titling it, having seen the price drop by about $20 U.S.D. recently from one vendor (which, alas, I am not sure is still selling it). But I should have bought it right away. It is written/photographed by Jonas’ friend, biographer, and media manager Thomas Voigt and my lovely friend Christine Cerletti, and it an absolute must for those of us suffering from the happy malady known as Kaufmannia, described in a post from 2016. And who among us couldn’t do with a little more light and beauty right now?
Jonas Kaufmann: Eine Bilderreise is a dual-language, heavily-weighted, and very attractive book, following our hero in pictures through the wealth of his many performances, from snapshots of his “early years,” including Idomeneo and Cosi fan tutte, through his work mostly categorized by composer or repertoire, from “Giuseppe Verdi” to “German Repertoire” to “Giacomo Puccini” to “Verismo,” to “Recitals,” “Concerts,” portraits of Jonas, and even a special little selection of Jonas’ own abstract photos. The introduction by the Director of the Munich Staatsoper, Nikolaus Bachler, as well as those by Voigt and Cerletti, express well the beauty and attractiveness that draw us to the “dark” tenor.
“What matters to him is presence instead of semblance, content instead of an empty shell. Not only do his heroes always emanate a sun-like magic, an inner fire and glow, but also dark presentiment and abysmal depths. Kaufmann does not merely belong to those who have been called, but is among the chosen…” ~Nikolaus Bachler, pg. 6
This is far more than your typical coffee-table book, perhaps because it brings into visual relief the wealth of this unique tenor’s incredibly rich and diverse work in a way both sensitive and insightful. Many of the featured photographs are essentially Christine’s own “screenshots,” some of which those of us in Jonas’ fan groups have enjoyed over the years. They capture moments of supreme beauty and emotion which recall us instantly to the performance. And none can so completely draw us into the emotional depth and interiority of a role as can Jonas.
Christine, in her delightful introduction, relates the way she first heard our tenor’s voice, as she was searching for an interpretation of Schubert’s Winterreise, and she’d frankly been trying to avoid the tenors. But his name kept coming up, and when she finally listened, it was transformative: “I would never have thought it possible that a tenor’s voice could electrify me that profoundly. I was completely taken with its baritonal, bronze, and sensual tone alone, let alone the singer’s eminent musicality and enormous expressiveness. This was not a narrator describing the figure of a wanderer in winter–this was the lonesome wanderer struggling with his fate.”
I think this beautifully sums up what makes Jonas’ voice and interpretation so unique: not only the dusky sound, but his approach to a role as if it had never been sung before. As if from within. This echoes Voigt’s insight into the words of Helmut Deutsch, who had said of Jonas that each time he comes to a role, even one which he has done many, many times before, “not the slightest routine made itself felt, each time it was all or nothing–and each time different,” his energy never abating. Jonas connects to the audience as if mind-to-mind, and heart-to-heart. Or, as Antonio Pappano has said of him, he is “the thinking-man’s tenor.” And he just happens to be a marvelous actor as well as singer and interpreter.
“Whenever you’re on stage, don’t act ‘as if’! This is about genuine feelings! I have learned this from the great stage director Giorgio Strehler, with ‘Cosi fan tutte,’ my very first opera production in Milan. He required absolute, unconditional commitment and passion from us; and this has literally burned itself into my mind.” ~Jonas Kaufmann, pg. 43
Thank you, Thomas Voigt and Christine Cerletti, for such a beautifully photographed and sensitively composed tribute to “our tenor,” and another ray of light in the midst of this ombra di nube.
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. Now, we hardly need more brooding words about the state of the world; rather, we need hope, joy, 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!
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.