opera on the cheap – Don Carlo and the Seamstress

“Give me Your Great Soul”: Don Carlos at the Met

Published on 7 April, 2022 by Rachel Anne Murphy4 Comments

“He loved me and we were brothers …
Our hearts were bound by eternal oaths…”
~Don Carlos, Act IV

[SPOILER ALERT: I’ll discuss the plot/ending and some of the directorial choices in this post.]

My mom and I recently canceled cross-country travel plans which I had hoped would be something of a renewal in opera sharing and attendance, since this long abyss of Covid began. We had splurged on really wonderful orchestra seats at the Met for my favorite opera, the 5-act, French language Don Carlos (Verdi’s original version), being performed for the first time ever at the Metropolitan Opera. I’d hoped to connect with two dear friends there, and possibly others. But with the unpredictable Omicron, a couple of us were in the same situation: we are almost daily in close proximity to those vulnerable to illness, and we felt we couldn’t take the risk.

Thankfully, there was the glorious Live in HD! I went on my own to the Wednesday encore, and it did feel like a renewal.

“Par quelle douce voix, mon âme est ranimée?” / “What sweet voice recalls my soul to life?”
~Don Carlos, Act II

Eboli (Jamie Barton) and Rodrigue (Etienne Dupuis)

I was already a fan of Matthew Polenzani (there’s a facebook group for him thanks to opera friend Judith Green), exquisite Canadian bass John Relyea (more on him below!), and the other leads. Matthew’s sweet melancholy and goodness won me over; Sonya Yoncheva’s Élisabeth had a melancholy that was of a bitterer kind, glamorous, understated, dignified; very much as she was in the role in Paris in 2017 which I wrote about here. Both she and Polenzani were captivating. Eric Owens was formidable as Philippe, and Jamie Barton was a knockout Eboli.

New production of *Don Carlos* by David McVicar

This new production by David McVicar was oppressive, confining, dark—even during the charming Fontainebleau opening—and appropriately so. It was somewhat reminiscent of the gallery-style background of Michael Grandage’s Don Giovanni, except that the “gallery” was a wall of tombs—a catacomb.

Here are a few of McVicar’s thoughts, from an article about the production on Playbill.com:

“‘Philip, hand in hand with the Church, has created a dictatorship of thought and an empire of fear—an empire ruled by death,’ says director David McVicar, explaining the concept at the core of the opera and of his production. ‘Set designer Charles Edwards and I researched a great deal about catacombs and ossuaries because we wanted to entrap all the characters in a world almost without sunlight, and make death an ever-present theme in every visual picture.’ This vision carries over into the predominance of black tones in the production’s costumes, designed by Brigitte Reiffenstuel, signifying “the approach of death—that there are maggots gnawing away at the heart of this empire.’”

And it makes sense; it would be interesting to note how many time the libretto references death and the tomb. Just a few from the latter portion of the opera:

“Who will restore this dead man to me? O dreadful abyss!…This proud man … this heart of flame,
I have thrown him into the horror of the tomb!”

“Fill my heart with the divine flame,
or make room for me next to you in the tomb.”

“Ah! We live on, but in vain.
He has taken from us the King’s heart, which is consumed with regret!
Spaniards! We are descending into the night of the tomb!”

But in spite of the repressive set and its imagery, both in beauty and horror, of death ~ an enormous corpus of Christ hangs from the rafters over the fourth act ~ there is a mysterious hope for resurrection, or as Rodrigue speaks of, a “new world” ~ but more on that.

For the first three acts, though I was awed by the glorious orchestra and chorus—and the flawless voices—I wasn’t as emotionally carried away as I’ve often been with Don Carlos, even in the opening. (I’ve sometimes been moved to weep as early as, “Je suis Carlos! Je t’aime!” ~ or earlier.) This might have been for a couple of reasons ~ I’ve been more sporadic about opera listening over the past two years, a little heart-weary. Also, this opera is so close to my heart, particularly the central brotherly relationship and my opera-hero Rodrigue/Rodrigo, that I often approach an unknown production and new-to-me Rodrigue with a slight guardedness. (I had gotten a bit burned by a particular regie production of the Italian version that reworked the ending in such a way that it made Rodrigo a villain!)

By the first intermission, I was getting very excited about Étienne Dupuis, vocally and in his convincing acting ~ the emotional connection to Carlos. Will it continue? I wondered. Will justice be done to the relationship, to the character? I posted a few quick thoughts at the first intermission, on Facebook:

“’Why have you snatched me from the tomb, o cruel God?‘

“Quick impressions about Don Carlos from the first intermission (at the cinema encore)…I haven’t been looking at impressions of it, so it is pretty fresh. Phenomenal voices, beautifully sung all-round. Owens, Yoncheva, Dupuis, Polenzani, Barton. Really warming up to the heroic Rodrigue so far, and beautiful friendship duet! Most delighted/surprised by Matthew Rose’s Monk…wow!!! Gorgeous voice, penetrating…!!!

“The set like a tomb, like catacombs…

“And they are really upping the Hamlet parallels, with a kind of doubling of Gertrude/Ophelia in the scene where Carlos has an audience with the queen, and it’s reminiscent of the slightly mad Hamlet that Ophelia describes, ‘his doublet all unbraced…‘

I didn’t post from the second intermission ~ except to say how much I was looking forward to seeing John Relyea’s Grand Inquisitor ~ but was enjoying the interviews and the reflective time, during what was proving to be an all-around pitch-perfect performance. I was utterly charmed by the brief interview with Étienne Dupuis during this intermission, and by the song he made to honor the friendship between Carlos and Rodrigue, commissioned by the Met. (Perhaps the realization that the focus was on their friendship made me take my guard down a notch, too…they weren’t going to pull a Robert Carsen on me! And I say that in spite of loving most Carsen productions I’ve seen ~ but that one Don Carlo horrified me.)

So, all was going smoothly; I figured this would be an all-around riveting Carlos ~ but I could remain a happy but slightly detached observer. That was nice, too.

Then came Act IV.

The Grand Inquisitor (John Relyea) and Philippe (Eric Owens)

If I had to pick a single favorite act in any opera, it would be Act IV in the 5-act French Don Carlos.

Of course, Act IV opens with “Elle ne m’aime pas,” and Eric Owens did a beautiful job of making Philippe relatable, tragic; his voice was powerful and melancholy. (Out came the discreet tissues from my purse…) Even more surprising, I found that I had tears running down my face during the whole of the Grand Inquisitor scene—definitely a first—just because of the sheer beauty of John Relyea’s powerful and rich voice. The kind of voice, as I mentioned in his fan group that Gaby and I started, that you feel resonating somewhere in your chest. And he was terrifying, to the point of madness. The way he exited with that resounding “Peace” right before his final “Perhaps,” filled the theater. (I had had my heart set on trying to meet him after, if we’d been able to make it in person!)

Of course, the power continues in the next scene’s quartet, and with Eboli’s show-stopping “O don fatale.”

But then comes the real heart-breaker, and the heart of the opera, in Rodrigue’s death arias. I’ll just say it: Étienne Dupuis absolutely destroyed me. Every moment swept me away, his voice full of a sweet melancholy and convincing love ~ love for freedom, for Flanders, and for Carlos ~ as he died in the arms of his friend. And what a gift his voice is! Rich, elegant, full of heart and warmth. (I wish I’d known this Canadian baritone before, and now am extremely tempted to go see him and Luca Pisaroni in the new production of Don Giovanni in San Francisco, if it can be managed.)

The whole scene, so absolutely crucial to get right, was sung and acted beautifully by both Polenzani and Dupuis. I’ve felt so often, one cannot ~ or should not ~ portray even a slightly detached friendship here; I’ve seen it understated before and it just doesn’t work as well. Carlos, after all, is an emotional hero, and Rodrigue has had to be guarded all throughout. Here is their opportunity to finally break free of whatever doubt had separated them, and whatever illicit love for Élisabeth had distracted Carlos. After all, it is through this passage that Carlos comes out changed by his friend, and it had better be a doozy of a scene.

I think this might possibly be the most tender rendition of his death that I’ve seen ~ which is why it works so beautifully.

The heartbreak continues in some of the most glorious music ever, as a repentant Philippe enters, trying to make peace with the son he has imprisoned, only to be doubly regretful when he learns that Rodrigue was not the traitor that he was believed to be. What follows is Rodrigue’s requiem/lacrymosa, heard only in the French version of Carlos, which, when he had cut it in the Italian, Verdi repurposed to use as the Lacrymosa in his Requiem Mass.

In some ways, the beauty of sorrow expressed in the Lacrymosa is a fitting theme for the whole opera, particularly the slightly more melancholy tone of the French language version. It is a theme which is, if you think of it, problematic ~ Carlos never does have the opportunity to be the great hero in the “new world” described by Rodrigue; but finds his peace, as the ghostly Monk had foretold, only in the tomb ~ in another world from this.

It had been McVicar’s intent “to entrap all the characters in a world almost without sunlight.” Yes, almost, but for the unexpected vision of Rodrigue at Carlos’ own death in the final moments. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it in a Carlo/Carlos production before. The wall of tombs breaks open, and light finally enters the stage, as the strong silhouette of Rodrigue enters to be with Carlos in death. Carlos dies in his friend’s arms, as Rodrigue had done in his. And it was perfect, breaking our hearts again ~ but in a way that heals.

“O my friend, yes, give me your great soul,
make me the hero of your new world!
Fill my heart with the divine flame,
or make room for me next to you in the tomb.”

New delights, sweet pain: a week with Così fan tutte

Published on 14 January, 201718 January, 2017 by Rachel Anne Murphy2 Comments

It was a blog post on Mozart’s Così fan tutte that finally inspired me to try seeing a production of it. (Yay for opera enablers!! Thank you Blake!!) But I didn’t stop at one. In about a week’s time, or just a little over, I’ve 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 Cliffs’ Notes version of what will probably shape up to be a wordy blog ***or if you aren’t familiar with the story of Così fan tutte yet (in which case, spoilers!)*** here are my highlights:

1. Please see this marvelous opera, in some version! I’d especially recommend the 2006 Glyndebourne production, which is free on Amazon if you’re in the U.S. and have Prime!

2. I highly recommend S. Blake Duncan’s blogs for deeper appreciation after you’ve seen it, particularly: In Defense of Così, and my personal favorite, More on Così 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 musician—I so especially appreciated the discussion of the “sound” of winds, like the winds of change, in the orchestration, as well as the discussion of “il core vi dono” and the other pieces throughout—but 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 Polenzani—and 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, it’s 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.

A Così summary…

The setting is late-18^th century Naples. The storyline, with libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte and the most glorious music by Mozart, is not unlike a story told in Cervantes’ Don Quixote, wherein a certain man persuades his best friend to woo his wife, in order to test her fidelity. In the case of Così, it is two men, Ferrando and Guglielmo, who are challenged by their older, worldly friend Don Alfonso to put their own fiancées to the test by wooing them in disguise—Ferrando and Guglielmo ostensibly being called off to the battlefield—and the upshot will be, in Don Alfonso’s mind, to disabuse his friends of the notion that these two women are any more faithful or high-minded than any other human being. Così fan tutte! (They [women] all do it!) The men have help in this endeavor from the clever maid Despina, who encourages her mistresses’ infidelities by her woman-of-the-world “wisdom”; she also disguises herself at various times as a notary, or a doctor –the latter a hilarious spoof on Mesmer’s “magnetism” that was a current fad, who “saves” the would-be wooers from death by poison. Guglielmo woos his friend’s betrothed Dorabella, and Ferrando woos Fiordiligi—and it’s hard to resist the charms of either.

A few thoughts…

The very title, Così fan tutte, seems to present a challenge for us, as though suggesting that troubles with constancy is a “woman’s problem”; I won’t 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 Ponte’s story…in fact, as Despina’s many comments suggest, that idea is a given. No need to test it, in her mind.

In this character-sextet—the two couples, Don Alfonso, and Despina—Despina is clearly the mirror of Don Alfonso, even though his opposite in gender and station. They’re not romantics. Despina’s 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?
Don’t let people hear you, for heaven’s sake!
All men are made of the same stuff;
the swaying boughs, the fickle breezes
have greater stability than men have.

The “problem” here is not about womens’ constancy, nor their submission (a problem that haunts Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, for example). When I consider Così, 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 “tricked” by their own—or their sisters’–betrothed husbands. And simply because they’re disguised in exotic costumes and wearing outrageous mustacchi? They’re 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? It’s delightfully outrageous…and we’re 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 “happy” 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 Così 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 play’s situation, Duke Vincentio. He is ever observing, testing…even manipulating events into submission. (It’s a good thing that he’s 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, Isabella—nevermind that, not long before, we were so disturbed by Angelo’s proposal to her. Sure, we might think: obviously, Angelo’s was a rotten deal—but the Duke, well, he’s 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, she’s only a novice at the convent, and maybe she doesn’t really want to be a nun in the first place. But still…still. It’s more than a little disconcerting. One can interpret it so that the ending is left open—and indeed, the best version I’ve 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 Così. 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 “Così fan tutte” and the sharpness of, say, “come scoglio immoto resta”, which then melts into moments of something…unexpected, bittersweet.

Such is the melting required of the men’s 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 “really” 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 “il core vi dono,” surely one of the most beautiful and poignant love duets ever written. If it weren’t for that one major caveat—the trickery involved—it would surely be the consummate love duet. Here’s 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 Ferrando’s “un’aura amorosa” (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 “like”–or think that we should think like—Don Alfonso or Despina, simply because they’re proven right? I personally don’t 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 “experienced” doesn’t 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 “easy to do justice; very hard to do right.” 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. We’re 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 they’re 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 aren’t even going to get off the ground.) Did they really have to break the “other” first in order to realize that their beloved women were indeed women and not angelic beings? Perhaps. It doesn’t make it right.

But where would the story be otherwise?

Whatever the case, the very “problems” 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 Così week perfectly:

“Che nuovi diletti! Che dolce penar!”(“What new delights! What sweet pain!”)

Happy Listening: In Memory of a “Sirius” Opera Fan

Published on 7 January, 2017 by Rachel Anne Murphy2 Comments

(Dedicated to the memory of Mr. Robert W. White.)

The passionate opera community on Facebook is a real treasure. Two of the online places that I’ve 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. (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, it’s 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 “fixture” in the Sirius group—many of us began to rely on it—was that shared by Mr. Robert W. White. Thus, we were all in shock and mourning to learn, on Dec 17, of Mr. White’s passing the previous day. (The only clue might have been the slight gap in his usual postings, his final having been December 3^rd.) 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: “Rysanek bids farewell to Verdi at the Met with a whimper” (on the Verdi Otello broadcast of 2/15/1964); or “Sereni’s limitations as Luna are only in comparison to Warren or Bastianini, not today’s rather pitiful crop of Verdi baritones” (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 Siepi—I 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 views—and he’d be the first to comment that they were only his preferences—he 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 “highly recommended”–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 this—one 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, I’ve 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. We’ll keep listening and posting, in your memory.

Happy New Year everyone. And, as Mr. White would typically end his weekly notes with, “Happy listening”!

Thoughts on Cyrano de Bergerac, Opéra National de Montpellier, 2003

Published on 20 December, 201620 December, 2016 by Rachel Anne Murphy1 Comment

“I carry my adornments on my soul…
a soul clothed in shining armor, hung
With deeds for decorations, twirling – thus –
A bristling wit, and swinging at my side
Courage, and on the stones of this old town
Making the sharp truth ring, like golden spurs!”

~ Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac

For my first opera experience of Cyrano, thanks to my friend Judith’s recommendation, I started out with the lovely 2003 production from the Opéra National de Montpellier, with Roberto Alagna in the title role. And I’m so glad I did. (As of the time of this posting, it can still be viewed at this link, complete with English subtitles!)

Cyrano de Bergerac, based on the 1897 play by Edmond Rostand, was composed by Franco Alfano with a libretto by Henri Cain initially written in French, although it premiered in Italian in 1936. Several adaptations, it would seem, have been composed based on Rostand’s classic tale, and it’s understandable…Cyrano is, of course, one of the iconic, heartbreaking love stories.

A man who risks his life to write and deliver daily missives to his beloved, and getting no credit for it? ...sigh... — A man who risks his life to write and deliver daily missives to his beloved, and getting no credit for it? …sigh…

The title character is a great-souled, intelligent, and indomitably brave poet-fighter in 17^th century France, whose only real “weakness” is what he considers to be a deformity—an extremely large nose—whose “ugliness” Cyrano feels will disqualify him in any contest at love. He jokes about this “deformity” better than anyone—but will just as soon challenge anyone to a duel on account of it. To paraphrase Charlie Chaplin who said that life is a comedy in long-shot and a tragedy up close, Cyrano is the ultimate tragi-comic hero.

In Act II, Cyrano comes to realize that the woman he harbored a secret love for, Roxane—who sees him only in the light of friendship—confesses that she loves a new member of Cyrano’s regiment, Christian—though she hardly knows him—and begs Cyrano that he protect him. True to an unexpected, yet perfect, recipe for heartbreak in the story (but eternal love from all who will encounter Cyrano on the page or stage forever after), he not only looks out for Christian, but helps his bluff and unimaginative rival-friend to woo Roxane, by writing letters to her in Christian’s name, even risking his life to make sure they are delivered across enemy lines on the battlefield. And all this, while letting another have the credit for his eloquence. (What’s not to love?) The irony is, the man Roxane ultimately really falls in love with is the man whose soul is so tender and whose words are so intoxicating.

Alfano’s opera does justice to to this great tale—part comedy, part adventure, part poetic tragedy—even if we can’t help but yearn for a Puccini interpretation in our heart of hearts. At least, I did. (And actually, Alfano is, I just learned—thank you, Blake!–perhaps best known for completing Puccini’s unfinished Turandot.)

This 2003 production from the Opéra National de Montpellier is a beautifully designed production, and the costumes are lush. The highlight for me was Roberto Alagna’s Cyrano, which is sensitive, heart-breaking, and full of Cyrano’s characteristically lovable bravado—and of course, his panache. My admiration for Alagna deepened with this performance…he really is exquisite in the French language roles! (And just like filmed or staged versions of A Tale of Two Cities, in which anyone who can play Sydney Carton well is pretty much “Beatified” in my book on the spot 😉 , the same might be said for any good Cyrano!)

Nathalie Manfrino is a lovely Roxane, and Richard Troxell is a very winning Christian—both vocally and in terms of acting: he compels the viewer to bestow at least a little bit of the sadness and empathy we feel for Cyrano’s situation, on him as well. Really, one cannot help but feel sorry for the slightly boorish fellow as he discovers, gradually and believably, to whom Roxane’s heart is really given—little does she herself imagine it. Nicolas Revenq is also very enjoyable as De Guiche. (Why is it that so many antagonists—in this case, he isn’t really an “antagonist”–or at least questionable gentlemen, have some variant of the name “Guy” or “Gui” or “Guillaume”? In this case, “De Guiche”! 😉 It has long been a joke in my family.)

Three specific scenes or moments I want to mention, besides of course the entrance of Cyrano, with his dashingly poetic swordplay: 1.) The wooing scene under the balcony, where Cyrano, under cover of darkness, tries to win back Roxane’s affection for Christian, which is poignant and heartbreaking on so many levels, and so well performed by all three. 2.) The beautiful Gascony song played by the shepherd to bring comfort to the soldiers at Cyrano’s encouragement. 3.) The finale.

All I can recommend is to have a box of tissues handy for the closing scene in the cloister garden.

Month #1 of (mostly) Met-on-Demand

Published on 12 November, 201613 November, 2016 by Rachel Anne MurphyLeave a comment

*Note #1: if we’re friends on Facebook, you’ve probably seen these notes already…

**Note #2: These are very informal–and too lengthy–impressions from an opera newbie!

***Note #3: “Cliff’s Notes” Version of this post: Please see the 2011 Don Giovanni and the 2007 Eugene Onegin, if I absolutely must narrow it down. Also, fell head-over-heels with three bass singers: René Pape, Štefan Kocán, and John Relyea! (Already loved bass Ildar, of course!)

~~~

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.

Don Giovanni (Met, 2011)

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, Štefan Kocán, Marina Rebeka, Barbara Frittoli, and Ramón 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 Štefan Kocán, 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. 🙂

Il Trovatore (Met, 2015)

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 Štefan Kocán 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…!

**Movie Break!** (Not from the Met:) Kenneth Branagh’s The Magic Flute, 2006

So…now for The Magic René–oops, I mean, The Magic Flute.

Okay, I actually watched this one before most of the others, and it’s not Met, but I thought it worth a mention, as I’ve become so hopelessly enamoured of René Pape. I’ve been remotely following him for months, but was utterly smitten after his performances in both Parsifal (Met, 2013) and his King Marke in the Met Live in HD Tristan und Isolde in early October.

I have never seen a production of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte…nor Der ZauberRené for that matter ~ so, please take this with a grain of salt, but I thoroughly enjoyed Branagh’s quirky, random humor transposed into a fantastical World War I setting with an anti-war focus. Not to mention the Gilbert-and-Sullivanesque English libretto by Stephen Fry. Joseph Kaiser (Tamino), Amy Carson (Pamina), and glorious, mesmerizing magician-bass René Pape (Sarastro) led the cast. (Yes, as much as I adore Branagh, I daresay you know who was the magician that drew me to THIS movie…) The CGI effects are pretty cheesy in spots, but it’s somehow in keeping with the magical, goofy oddity of the whole.

Le Nozze di Figaro, Met, 2014

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…

Il Trovatore, Met, 2011

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, Štefan Kocán, 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, Štefan Kocán 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…)

Eugene Onegin, Met, 2007 and 2013

A real highlight of this past opera week for me was the new-to-me discovery of Tchaikovsky’s opera Eugene Onegin, another which I did a double header on, seeing both the 2007 production with Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Renée Fleming, and Ramón Vargas, as well as the more recent production with Mariusz Kwiecien, Anna Netrebko, and Piotr Beczala. I had not known this story previously ~ about inaccessible love, haughty rejection, and the pride that destroys friendships and romantic love ~ based on the verse-novel by Alexander Pushkin. Okay, so I do have a tendency to love anything 19th century anyway, but I was captivated by these characters, and utterly loved it. It is *quintessentially* 19th century in its themes, with an ending I wouldn’t have expected in an opera. I won’t say more, but I’d like to write a more fleshed-out post on this opera alone at some point, rather than just pointing out a few highlights of these productions.

Both Anna and Renée are absolutely luminous in the role of the shy but stronger-than-she-appears Tatiana, and I really cannot choose between the two whose interpretation I prefer. (But I was more invested in Renée’s struggles, perhaps because it was my first Eugene, and I loved the whole production so much altogether.) Piotr and Ramón were both wonderful as the honorable, lovable, but almost irrationally-jealous Lenski…it was my first time seeing Piotr in anything and I was so impressed! For Eugene, I would be hard pressed to give a preference as to their vocal beauty in the role; but in terms of interpretation and sheer force of presence, undoubtedly, Dmitri has the commanding, striking haughtiness that instantly catches one off guard, as this character does Tatiana. He is positively statuesque. I mean, this Eugene really out-Darcys Mr. Darcy, and is more aimless and cynical than a Eugene Wrayburn. Unquestionably, I would choose Dima for the role, if I were forced to choose. (But I would very highly recommend both.)

Visually, both productions are luscious, and the costumes stunning. The 2013 is quite glorious to look at. My own preference, though, is decidedly in favor of the earlier 2007 production with Dima and Renée: it is utterly magical in its stark simplicity. A very minimalist set with a slightly “boxed-in” look (thematically in keeping with the bounded-in-a-nutshell situation of the characters…), but with the most stunning colors–I’d like to create a photo collage of the different scenes–and falling leaves, as though reflective of the beauty of romantic love even in it’s autumn…when it is rejected and inaccessible.

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.💙💔

Of course, Eugene Onegin will be live in the cinemas from the Met in April of 2017, again with Dmitri, in combination with Anna Netrebko and Štefan Kocán…I absolutely cannot wait!

Afterward

Now that I’ve practically written a novel of notes, I thought I’d also mention that these are only a few of the opera beauties I’ve heard and seen this month, which includes a live-stream with Mariusz of Donizetti’s La Favorite, and the Met Live in HD Tristan und Isolde with Nina Stemme and René.

A few radio highlights include a really marvelous radio transmission of a Don Carlo with René (Philip II), Mariusz (Rodrigo), and Michael Fabiano (Carlo) from the San Francisco Opera of June 2016; also, another Don Carlo audio with René and Dima from the Met-on-Demand (audio only)…both stunningly beautiful. Also, it’s been great fun to experience, via radio, this year’s Met production of Guillaume Tell, with Gerald Finley (Tell), Marina Rebeka (Mathilde) and another magician-bass, John Relyea (the evil Gessler! A new bass love!!). Then, this past week, another live radio broadcast of the Met’s Don Giovanni, this time with Ildar Abdrakazov in the lead! A most marvelous Don…perfect! And this has not remotely covered it all.

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!! 😉 )

Save the Dates: October 7th/8th, 2016!

Published on 29 September, 20161 October, 2016 by Rachel Anne MurphyLeave a comment

Friends of opera! We have three exciting arrivals next week…

October 7th will be a day for Kaufmanniacs.

No "ungrateful hearts" about this one! — No “ungrateful hearts” about this one!

First of all, we have Jonas’ new CD coming out! Dolce Vita (available for pre-order now) is a 67-minute tribute to Italian music, including the 1911 Neapolitan beauty, “Core ‘ngrato” (“Ungrateful heart”) by Salvatore Cardillo. (Of course, most Kaufmanniacs have watched—and rewatched—him sing this piece on YouTube. A friend of mine expressed her ultimate dream: of Jonas singing this to her in person! Right there with you…

Sigh.

Jonas + the French Revolution = perfection!

As if that weren’t enough, we also have the DVD (or BluRay) of the 2015 Royal Opera House production of Giordano’s Andrea Chénier starring our tenor in the title role coming out the same day. Featuring Eva-Maria Westbroek and the wonderful Serbian baritone Željko Lučić and conducted by Antonio Pappano, Chénier is one not to be missed, and one of the first recorded operas I saw with our tenor after first encountering him. (And no, surely that’s not a poster of Jonas as Chénier hanging on my bedroom wall…? Oops, guilty.) The opera was free on YouTube, sans subtitles, when I saw it, but it required having a libretto handy, and hence missing too many Jonas moments! I think I need to remedy this. And yes, the DVD or BluRay is also available for pre-order on Amazon.

Of course, Giordano, and Jonas, had me blubbering like a baby by the end, in true Romantic Revolutionary style. (Now, imagine if it had been an opera of A Tale of Two Cities with our tenor as a certain tragic hero who shall not be named…I might not be alive today to tell the tale. It would simply be too much.)

Then, Saturday October 8th is the start of our new season of the Metropolitan Opera’s Live in HD cinema showings, beginning with Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, conducted by Simon Rattle and starring Nina Stemme as Isolde, Stuart Skelton as Tristan, and the always glorious René Pape as King Marke. I am still new to Wagner, so this should be an interesting experience. A long Wagner on a Saturday morning sounds a bit intense, I admit…

Enjoy!

Defining the happy malady known as “Kaufmannia”

Published on 18 April, 201619 April, 2016 by Rachel Anne Murphy8 Comments

Fellow devotees of our tenor might have experienced a certain exhilaration this past Saturday, April 16th, if they were able to witness the live stream of Tosca from the Vienna Staatsoper, 7:30pm Vienna time. (10:30am Oregon time!) Though of course a different production from the brilliant 2011 production of the Royal Opera House that I wrote of previously, the Vienna production had the same three phenomenal artists in the lead roles: Bryn Terfel as Scarpia, Jonas Kaufmann as Cavaradossi, and Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca.

What a privilege, from so many miles away, to weep over witnessing our tenor in real time, bewildered by the historically rare chanting and pounding of the audience for so long after the aria “E lucevan le stelle” in Act III–literally, show-stopping length–that he and the conductor finally relented, and the aria was performed again. Even more beautifully than the first time. I think many of us were soaring the rest of the weekend…

The same (extremely unusual) phenomenon had apparently happened at the premiere, after which there were whispers about the frustrated comments made by Ms. Gheorghiu about the repetition of the aria. Thus, a moment of operatic melodrama ensued on the night of the 16th, wherein our tenor is left without Tosca who (by speculation, deliberately) missed the cue to enter after “E lucevan,” leaving her Mario stranded and stunned on the rooftop of the Castel Saint’Angelo, where he awaits execution. The orchestra kept playing…Mario desolate and confused…no soprano! Finally, the orchestra stopped, and Mr. Kaufmann, with characteristic good humor and self-effacement, sung a little line about the lack of the soprano, and speaking directly to the audience, delicately apologized by indicating that he was as confused as they were. He had the audience utterly in his pocket…a moment of endearment.

Finally, the soprano entered and all was resumed as if nothing had happened.

Needless to say, concentration on my sewing deadlines suffered greatly this weekend–as did all hope of good sleep, in my excitement–so that all I have a head for at the close of this week (besides our tenor) is whimsical speculation about this mysterious “malady” which has been referred to as “Kaufmannia.” Why not attempt to begin defining it? It may not be in the DSM-V, but after all of the symptoms so many of us have experienced this weekend, perhaps it should be…

So, I shall save writing all more meaningful commentary until a time when deadlines are passed and a regular sleep pattern resumed. Until then, a little silliness. Enjoy, and thank you for putting up with your absent-minded seamstress…

Definition: “Kaufmannia“*
*subject to change as this condition becomes more fully explored

Kaufmannia is a condition wherein the victim becomes paralyzed with delight leading to transcendent obsession brought on by exposure to the voice of Jonas Kaufmann.

In its mildest form, Kaufmannia may exhibit symptoms of unexpected weeping and temporary mania-like experiences. These feelings may marginally decrease if one avoids listening to Jonas for a prolonged period. Though abstaining from listening may be an effective short-term remedy (e.g. to promote concentration on an immediate work or study project), it is rarely practical, and includes long-term side-effects such as depression and loss of interest in life.

In its most extreme form–Kaufmannia Extremis–prolonged periods of transcendence may ensue, resulting in any or all of the following: sleeplessness, heart palpitations, shortness-of-breath, obsessive thinking, profound and sudden interest in the beauty of life, continually stopping to smell the roses, uncontrollable weeping, feelings of living in an alternate (and more beautiful) reality, opera obsession, phantom music playing in one’s ear, a tendency to hum or sing in languages one doesn’t understand, addictive tendencies, recurring dreams, inability to survive for long periods without “a dose of Jonas,” a mania to see live performances, increased tenderness and love for all creatures, increased pity (whether well-founded or delusional) for those who are not (yet) Kaufmanniacs, incessant desire to infect others with this illness for the good of humanity, and hopeless romanticism. Potentially negative side-effects include: inability to concentrate on humdrum realities of life (e.g. earning a living so that one can purchase more opera DVDs, CDs, etc), the anxious concern exhibited by friends (who have secretly been looking into the cost for padded rooms), and diminished bank account balances due to excessive opera-related purchases.

Kaufmannia is generally known to be terminal, without any known cure. In fact, studies show that those in Kaufmannia Extremis desire no cure, presumably due to the euphoric state of enhanced psycho-spiritual awareness and well-being experienced by the “sufferer.” Thus, there is currently no funding for research towards a remedy.

Highly contagious.

–from the “Other” Diagnostic & Statistical Manual-5 3/4

Massenet, musings, and the Met

Published on 29 March, 201629 March, 2016 by Rachel Anne MurphyLeave a comment

Continuing the subject of Massenet’s Werther–the first opera I saw with our tenor–from my post from March 23, I thought I would take a moment to share something I’ve been pondering for more reasons than it is possible to name: a subscription to Met-on-Demand [MOD].

I’m sure those who are long-time opera fans have known about this for quite a while. But for the newbies like me: if you’re in the mood to watch opera on a fairly regular basis, it looks like a reasonable deal at $14.99/month. (And my mom and I are looking at going in on it together…not bad at $7.50/mo per person!) And there is a free 7-day trial. (See how I’m attempting to convince myself…?)

Oh, temptation.

One highlight among many from the 575+ recordings available from MOD: there is another production of Werther, again with Jonas in the title role and Sophie Koch as Charlotte, done at the Met a few years after the 2010 Paris production. Here is a teaser clip of Werther’s “O Nature” aria from Act I (the last part of the aria):

“I have so much in me, and the feeling for her absorbs it all; I have so much, and without her it all comes to nothing.” ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “The Sorrows of Young Werther”

This little aria, our introduction to the character Werther, is really is a prayer to nature, as is highlighted by the first line: “O nature, full of grace,” echoing the Hail Mary. In the Paris production, Werther ends the aria in a kind of childlike wonder, almost ecstasy, basking in the beauty of the sunlight as though before the altar of his idol. The beginning of the aria, roughly translated, runs thus:

O nature, plein de grâce,

Reine du temps et de l’espace,

Daigne accueillit celui qui passe

Et te salue, humble mortel!

~ ~ ~

O nature, full of grace,

Queen of time and space,

Deign to welcome this passer-by

Who salutes you–this humble mortal!

"O, Nature!" from Werther, Paris 2010 — “O, Nature!” from Werther, Paris 2010

We almost feel: if only his devotion had remained limited to the simple and abundant glories of nature–rather than becoming distracted by the far more complex and fickle attractions of romantic love–he might have been happier…

But then, where is the drama in that?

“Is this the destiny of man? Is he only happy before he has acquired his reason or after he has lost it?” ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “The Sorrows of Young Werther”

Looking for libretti…

Published on 24 March, 201624 March, 2016 by Rachel Anne MurphyLeave a comment

20160323_212341 — Works as a door-stopper too!

Look what just arrived from ThriftBooks on Amazon: a door-stopper! A 1996 edition of The Book of 101 Opera Librettos: Complete Original Texts with English Translations.

I certainly could have made good use of this tome over the past month and a half! One thing which has to be tackled when one is trying to see opera on the cheap—or simply just to see many operas which aren’t available on conventional DVD/Bluray with the option of subtitles (and more re: Premiere Opera later)—is how to get ahold of librettos (or “libretti”).

There are many options. The one I used for seeing the whole 2015 ROH [Royal Opera House, Covent Garden] Andrea Chénier (link to Act I of IV here) was via an online public domain source, and I had the local print shop print out a paper copy for me. That would be a bit cumbersome for each opera…hence this tome, which can be found used on Amazon.

The Book of 101 Opera Librettos isn’t exactly a book to sneak into one’s purse if you’re lucky enough to go to live opera…might as well haul around a few bowling balls. Better to read the libretto beforehand, if needed. But it certainly works in the comfort of your living room–

ee74b4d1-b9be-4ebc-add6-e94f093fe081 — Um…read the libretto, or watch Jonas?

Mostly. Problems arise when one has to keep deciding whether to look down at the libretto to comprehend what is being said, versus staring at a certain tenor who shall remain nameless. Or when tears are streaming down one’s face, obscuring the too-small type.

I’ve read mixed things about this book. Apparently some of the choices in translation are a little eccentric, as are some of the choices of which operas to include, and which to exclude…

20160323_212642 — Something is missing here…

(Where is Don Carlo??)

As to the last question, perhaps it has to do with the several versions there are (in French and Italian) of this opera…but I still find it a puzzling omission. More on Don Carlo and its multiple versions later.

Nonetheless, I’m grateful to have this book…if nothing else, I can use it as a booster seat.

Jonas’ Werther…for free? Ah, “pourquoi me réveiller”!?

Published on 23 March, 201624 March, 2016 by Rachel Anne Murphy1 Comment

By a happy accident, I’d forgotten to cancel my free trial of Amazon Prime last year—I have about 5 days left at the moment—and so the first opera I saw with our wonder-tenor Jonas Kaufmann is viewable for free, compliments of Prime and Medici (at least here in the US), and can be found here.

Werther is Jules Massenet’s four-act opera of 1887, based on a 1774 novel by Goethe. This is the 2010 production of the Opera National de Paris, starring our tenor in the title role, Sophie Koch as Charlotte, and Ludovic Tezier as Charlotte’s fiancé Albert. A good synopsis can be found at Naxos, here.

As you might imagine, our tenor is sublime as the poetic, melancholy, Nature-worshipping Werther, whose doomed love of Charlotte—affianced to Albert before love awakens between herself and the young poet—leads to tragedy.

Please don’t miss this beautiful, moving performance and production. For a taste of it, click the link above—or here—to the heart-stopping aria, “Pourquoi me réveiller?” (“Why rouse me?”) You won’t want to be awakened from the dream, either…