Ensnaring the Soul: Thoughts on ROH’s “Otello,” and its Demi-devil

I will start by saying that I adore Shakespeare’s Othello, and I’m far more familiar with the play than with Verdi and Boito’s opera. (So, you’ll see various “Othello” versus “Otello” spellings depending on which I’m referring to.) But knowing just enough of this opera to feel both its intensity and its difficulty, I was in as much anticipation as any to hear and see the interpretation of Jonas Kaufmann in what has been referred to as “the Mt. Everest of tenor roles.” Combined with this, the ROH’s current Otello is a new production by Keith Warner, and conducted by Antonio Pappano. It live-streamed to many cinemas on June 28th, and will be shown at various dates in the months following, depending on one’s location.

Well, I did have an opportunity to see it…and adored it.

In my usual fashion, however—more art with less matter?–I won’t even try to be overly succinct.

Brief background: Verdi, Boito, and Shakespeare

In many ways, it sounds as though Verdi’s Otello—considered one of his great works along with Don Carlo and Falstaff—is the result of a strained bromance. I read a fascinating article (linked here) about the extremely fruitful and long collaboration between Verdi and the librettist Arrigo Boito, who apparently even brought Verdi out of retirement. Boito wrote up his Otello libretto without any hope of its being used nor paid for, but solely as a passion project, “to give V[erdi] proof that I am truly far more devoted to him than he believes.” It premiered at La Scala in 1887.

His source, Shakespeare’s Othello, was first performed in 1604, and his own source was one tale from among a collection of Italian tales in the Hecatommithi which were popularized in 1565—and we all know the story, more or less: the noble “Moor of Venice,” married to a Venetian woman, is targeted for destruction by the devilish Iago.

“That demi-devil…”

Marco Vratonga, Iago, ROH “Otello” 2017

Iago is one of the great villains, in part because he seems to delight in evil for its own sake. Not just pot-stirring, mischief-making like a type of Loki figure, but truly delighting in other people’s suffering and his own power to make them suffer. Some of his injunctions to Roderigo even about minor characters—i.e., “poison his delight,” “plague him with flies”–are as seemingly purposeless as they are cruel. And scarily enough, particularly in Shakespeare’s play, Iago, oozing charisma, draws the audience right along in his machinations. We almost become guilty co-conspirators.

Bringing it back to Verdi, it is no wonder that he initially intended to call the opera Iago.

The eternal question as to Iago’s motive is: Why? “Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil/Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?” (Othello, V.ii.).

Why? To quote the wrong play, “that is the question.” The ten-million-dollar question. Is it simply jealousy of Othello, or racial prejudice? Is it a kind of love-lust of Othello, and jealousy of Desdemona? Jealous of Cassio for usurping his place? Jealous of both of them, for being ranked above him? Or simply jealous of anyone who has any measure of success, enjoyment, or contentment with their own life? We know what Richard III wants. What Claudius wants. What Lady Macbeth wants. But what the hell (yes, definitely hell) does Iago really want? His motive is the consummate puzzle. Coleridge’s note on Iago in his own copy of Shakespeare has become famous: “the motive-hunting of motiveless malignity.” Not that he is without motive, but his motive is something utterly mysterious and cruel: it is “for my peculiar end” (Othello, I.i).

Iago’s answer to Othello’s question, and his last line in the play, is equally enigmatic: “Demand me nothing. What you know, you know./From this time forth I never will speak word” (Othello, V.ii.).

Side note: My mom, Debra, and I–well, our entire family of Shakespeare nuts, in fact–have had many discussions on this subject over the years, and she has written about this subject–Iago’s “motive”–in fiction and nonfiction/reviews, one of which can be found at this link. She also references a favorite production of Othello, the play, which I highly recommend, with Willard White, Imogen Stubbs, and Sir Ian McKellen, though it seems to be more difficult to find now. (And if you want to really fall down the rabbit hole here, there is an excellent article about the experience of Sir Willard White–an opera singer–playing the role of Othello in the play.)

Whatever the motive, what is clear is that Iago is the consummate manipulator, and an actor through and through. (Some reviewers of the ROH Otello have referred to Vratonga’s Iago as “puppet-master,” which is excellent.) “For when my outward action doth demonstrate/The native act and figure of my heart/In compliment extern, ‘tis not long after/But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve/For daws to peck at. I am not what I am” (Othello, I.i). He knows how to play on the perceived “weakness” or characteristic tendency of each person, and use it—less to his own advantage, than to the other’s disadvantage. Desdemona’s extreme trust and innocence is used against her; as is Cassio’s tendency to lose his head in anger when drunk; Roderigo’s lust and gullibility; Othello’s paranoid anger—or, more in the traditional context than in this particular production, his own insecurity about his status as “outsider.”

For the noble “Moor of Venice” is, in some way, an outsider, who has gained great popularity and status through his heroism. Whoever plays Othello/Otello has to make this nobility, the bravery, utterly convincing, for a crucial element of the tragedy to be felt.

ROH’s “Otello”

Thankfully, for Otello the opera, now that we are beyond the embarrassing “blackface” interpretations of yesteryear, we can really explore infinite varieties (thanks again, Will, for your amazing coinages) of motive—either related to Iago’s villainy, or to Othello’s tendency to both suspect and react in the extreme. Motives, perhaps, related to the “green-eyed monster” in both.

If there is one potential “problem” in the pacing of the opera, it is perhaps that there is less setup, and hence, less potential payoff. After all, in the play, Iago is planting seeds of doubt, courting the audience and everyone else, and planning his knavery for a full two acts before he plants the idea of Desdemona’s infidelity into Othello’s mind. And yet, in spite of such setup, there is nothing at all extraneous in the Shakespeare play—no digressions nor subplots that don’t relate directly to the main thrust of the action. It’s tight as a drum. In the play, Othello doesn’t dismiss Cassio until the end of Act II, and Iago doesn’t first suggest (to Othello) the idea of Cassio’s interest in Desdemona until Act III, Scene 3—quite literally right smack in the middle of the play! In the opera, both events happen at the beginning, with very little prologue. This was brought up wonderfully by my friend Viv in her review, linked here.

So, the music must make us familiar with the characters. And the performers must convey the poignancy of their relationships, and Iago his villainy, with little time to spare. In other words, the music and performance must make up for the lack in length and setup. This is yet another challenge—especially for the Otello—to any who would tackle such demanding roles.

Jonas, who has always had an unusually strong acting ability, and who comes across as

Jonas Kaufmann as Otello and Maria Agresta as Desdemona, ROH “Otello” 2017

truly interiorizing his every performance and thinking through it rather than bluffing it, emanates a natural leadership and inherent goodness. Yet, it is an essential goodness which has a component of deep emotional and psychological instability. The same capacity for swift judgment, which must have made him a ruthless general, has also made him rash. His dark sound is uncannily suited to this role, and he had me in tears from his “già della notte densa.” His first stirrings of paranoia—and even madness—were utterly convincing. His intensity, his capacity for subtlety and intelligence verging on hypersensitive madness was beautifully done, winding up so tightly until his final unhinging is dramatic and frightening. (And I confess, his dark voice has had me on a “Jonas high” ever since…) He is revelatory. Here is a clip from an earlier recording of “Niun mi tema.”

What can I say of Antonio Pappano? His lush, dramatic score was yet another character altogether…the opening storm scene utterly thrilling, and everything throughout the opera so fulfilling in this regard as to make one forget what an art it takes to forget the artists who helps make it possible: the conductor and orchestra.

Maria Agresta is a very winning Desdemona, who captures well the innocent guilelessness of the character, although I have little to compare her with, as relates to other opera performances.

Marco Vratonga is a juicy Iago. He doesn’t have the most beautiful baritone sound, but his gruff energy and sheer delight in malice goes a long way, and personally, I thoroughly loved his performance. In the play, one has more time to take delight in Iago’s extreme two-facedness—the false brotherly love for Othello, and what appears to be genuine concern for Desdemona, Cassio, and Roderigo. Then, he turns on a dime to face the audience and say, “How am I then a villain?”–and did I just see a wink?—and we are, guiltily, captivated. Or, perhaps…ensnared. In the opera, and in Vratonga’s interpretation, it is hard to see the “honest Iago,” as the villain face is so apparent…but it is delightfully devilish notwithstanding.

A chiaroscuro production: turning “virtue into pitch”

Speaking of the “villain face,” this brings me to the element that I wanted to give a little more focus to, and one which has gotten mixed reactions: the new set design and production by Keith Warner. Personally, I loved both, and found the use of light and dark extremely powerful and effective. The costumes had a certain magical realism; they whispered of the time in which the play was written, and yet belonged to no particular time nor place.

Perhaps a number of opera-goers have become a bit tired of the minimalist set design. I will admit to my bias, as I’ve always loved it—but only if well utilized, and if it serves what should be an obvious purpose: to draw attention to the music, the words, the characters. I will never forget a certain live theatre production I saw as a teenager, of Richard III, with all the actors dressed in the same black outfit—often, because the company was small, with one person playing multiple roles—and they utilized just one distinctive piece of clothing (a hat, scarf, etc) to distinguish each character. They would take up or doff each clothing item as needed. But the sheer energy and acting talent brought our imaginations to life, and compelled the listener to hear Shakespeare’s words like the music that they are.

Now, I too have become a little tired of “drab” productions, which sometimes overlap with “minimalist.” The recent Vienna Don Carlo was, I thought, somewhat of this variety. (Except for Philip II’s, ahem, gorgeous costume… 😉 ) It had all the rather spartan, blue-grey dullness that is a bit lacking in ingenuity. Okay, frankly, I think it’s a bit lazy.

This production, however, utilized a stark black/white/red design to perfect effect: it was the chiaroscuro of the soul.

It begins in utter blackness. Iago then appears in spotlight, holding a comedy and tragedy mask: the comedy (a white mask) in his left hand—and for the audience, it is the one on the right—and a black tragedy mask in his right hand, and our left. After looking at them, he tosses the comedy mask to the ground with a devilish laugh, looking at the audience.

This immediately connects to what I discussed above: the possibility of so many other themes and motives than solely race, or rank-jealousy; all are intertwined with one another, with the over-arching tendency to destroy and bring the “other” down. To destroy happiness in the “other.” To destroy. Period. It brings up a possible further motive for our ever-elusive Iago: he is out for the soul. As in the play, he is out to “turn [Desdemona’s] virtue into pitch,/And out of her own goodness make the net/That shall enmesh them all” (Othello, II.iii). In this production, one has the feeling that Iago wants not only to turn the appearance of virtue into pitch (again, the light/dark theme), but to turn their own souls against themselves and their better nature. Perhaps, to damn themselves, using their own weakness to their disadvantage.

In this way, we might connect it to Iago’s chilling “Credo” aria: what he’s actually battling is a “cruel God,” rather than Otello, Cassio, or Desdemona. An effective way to, essentially, give the finger. It is odd, how in Verdi’s and Boito’s interpretation, Iago seems to buy into an odd sort of predestination: we are all “slime”; “I believe the just man to be a mocking actor in face and heart” (“Credo che il giusto e un istrion beffardo e nel viso e nel cuor”); that he himself does what he does by “destiny’s decree.” (Here, I would advise the opera-Iago to listen to another epic villain, Edmund in King Lear, I.ii: “This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,/When we are sick in fortune,–often the surfeit/Of our own behaviour,–we make guilty of our/Disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars, as/If we were villains by necessity; fools by/Heavenly compulsion…”) Or, perhaps, Iago sees himself as destined to be the shadow that opposes the light. Hell’s compulsion, if you will. Or, “divinity of hell” (Othello, II.iii).

The production brings out this soul-battle with haunting power. From the general “darkness” of the set, to Otello seeing himself in Act II, masked, in a mirror, right after he is nearly ready to kill Iago for planting this seed of doubt in his mind. Later, before the final scene, as Otello descends into madness, Iago proclaims “victory” and the joy of being able to crush this “lion of Venice” under his feet…then proceeding to cover Otello’s mad-vacant face with the black mask of tragedy. Overall, I doubt that it is only victory over Otello he wants. After all…why? I think Iago has bigger fish to fry.

“Mio Carlo”

(To Viv, opera buddy.)

For a blog with “Don Carlo” in the title, I’ve written surprisingly little as yet on this, my favorite, opera. (Truthfully, I haven’t written as often as I’d like to in general.) Perhaps it is that trepidation that one has approaching a beloved subject…how to express thoughts in words that do it any justice? In time, I hope to explore this opera here in more depth, as I continue to learn.

Today, however, it has been a year since the opera obsession started; it feels like a good time to take a pause. This blog has been about the “opera journey”–more the opera than the “journey”– from a beginner’s perspective…not because my journey has any significance, but just because it is too joyful not to share. But this post, more personal, relates to what will be a huge milestone and joy for me in the coming year…thanks in great part to “mio Carlo,” Viv.

Rodrigo (Thomas Hampson) comforts his Carlo (Jonas Kaufmann). Don Carlo, Salzburg 2013.

About eleven months ago I saw my first recording of Verdi’s Don Carlo, the 2013 Salzburg production with Jonas Kaufmann, Anja Harteros, and Thomas Hampson. The opera became my favorite quicker than you can say “bromance.”

Why Carlo? (How shall I count the ways?) Phenomenal characters, complex relationships (talk about dysfunctional family!), glorious music, chilling and captivating political and religious themes…it has it all. It’s the Hamlet of opera, in combination with some of the intrigue of the history plays. But more than that, Don Carlo has, to me, the most moving relationship in any opera: the brotherly, self-sacrificial love between Don Carlo and his friend Rodrigo, the Marquis di Posa, who is caught between his affection for Carlo and his concern for the suffering of the people of Flanders under the heavy hand of Carlo’s father, King Philip II of Spain, and the Inquisition. To stretch the Hamlet connection, the Carlo/Rodrigo friendship has a bit of a Hamlet/Horatio dynamic–albeit with a stronger, more proactive “Horatio.” One, Carlo, is “passion’s slave,” haunted by a disastrous personal crisis in the midst of political ones–the other, Rodrigo, a staunchly loyal friend who sees the potential in him.

I’ve always had a soft spot for stories about male friendship. (I hesitated before seeing a version of the opera, after hearing the friendship duet on youtube–love at first listen–because I feared that Rodrigo would turn against his Carlo in the end, or that it’d end up being more rivalry than friendship.) But, not to spoil it, Verdi not only pays off the incomparably beautiful duet, a glorious tribute to friendship, but does so in a big way. I hope you will experience a version of this opera if you haven’t already…I eventually get around to writing a bit on those I’ve seen and heard.

My friend Viv (below) has often tried to guess which opera-relationships would likely be a success, if not hampered by the death and villainy that goes with the opera territory. (Would Mimi and Rodolfo honestly make it “in real life”? Tosca and Mario? Calaf and Turandot? It does make one pause…) I can only say, without a doubt, that Carlo and Rodrigo would make it. 😉 That’s the difference in this opera, an opera where the love serves the ideal, and the ideal the love; where friendship is deeper than the (sometimes) shallow ebb and flow of opera romance, where love is truly stronger than death and disappointment. It’s the bond of brothers.

Not unlike this friendship, the community of those who love opera is also close-knit. Opera friends are immensely enthusiastic and warm in sharing their joy, recommendations, practical help and advice…even sending/exchanging CDs or DVDs that they love or want to pass along. (One of mine just went out in the post to a friend the other day, and hers to me before that.) Listening to opera together, sharing knowledge and thought and insight. Opera buddies make life more and more beautiful all the time. My parents are hooked, and have not only tolerated but supported their daughter’s mad hobby, and will even listen to Wagner with me…a beau geste indeed. 😉 We’re all Carlos and Rodrigos to one another.

jonas-viv-selfie
Jonas Kaufmann and Viv Hannides, 18 Jan 2017. Our Jonas took this “selfie.”

Around the time of my first Don Carlo, my long-distance friend Viv Hannides (fellow Kaufmanniac and Opera Enabler Extraordinaire, who allowed me to mention her name and snag a photo of hers–on the left–for this post, without knowing why) told me that there were rumors of a production of the French-language version—Don Carlos, as it is typically called in that version—to be performed at the Opéra National de Paris (Bastille) for the 2017-18 season, with Jonas in the title role. This would be historic on several levels: the stellar cast (more on that below) and the novelty of its being the full, 5-act French version. (They will apparently be doing the 5-act Italian version the following season.) Viv, who has a Paris Opera subscription, offered to help me get tickets, even back when we had just started to connect, if I wished to try for it when the time came.

Well, I knew I would have to try. It would perhaps be my first, or even only, chance to see/hear our tenor in person. (And who knows what can happen in a year’s time?) Sure, Jonas will doubtless be at the Met again soon enough–perhaps even next season, as there are rumors of a Tosca with his Cavaradossi–and what a dream that would be! We’ll soon find out for certain. But…this is Don Carlos! And, so my thinking went, it would be—from the time I first heard the rumors—a year and a half to two years away, depending on what point in the season it was performed. I had a bit of time to save, and plan. (Well, how time does fly…)

jonas-and-rene-1
A gift from Viv, October 2016.

And what can I say of dear Viv? If only I could count the number of times generous, beautiful, hilarious Viv has made me laugh, and cheered me up with delightful, outrageously-altered pictures of my opera heroes (mostly Jonas and René Pape). And I don’t know at what point Viv became nicknamed “mio Carlo” by me—someone pointed out that we will have to start saying “mon

Another gift from Viv, New Years' Eve, 2016.
Another gift from Viv, New Years’ Eve, 2016.

Carlos,” in keeping with the French version—and I her “Rodrigo,” but so it is. I believe I did mention a number of times wanting “to be Rodrigo when I grow up,” after encountering Thomas Hampson’s portrayal of the opera hero in the Salzburg production. (Really, though, she has been more the Rodrigo than I, the one to go above and beyond constantly…and has made for this distant “fanciulla del West” feel less distant from the hub of European opera than she really is.)

Most recently, she has redoubled my joy at the return of Jonas–in the Paris Lohengrin–after his months of recovery from the vocal injury. Viv was there the first night, January 18th, and stayed hours after to wait for him to come out after the show, keeping me posted as she waited.

Knock me down with a feather...
Knock me down with a feather…

Little did I know that a large part of her intent was to have our hero sign something for his long-distance fan who has not been able to see him in person yet. I won’t try to describe the emotion here. (My poor mom, who happened to be around at the time, had to put up with constant, weepy interruptions…) Not only to see my name in Jonas’ hand, but, even more, touched that “mio Carlo” would have even thought to take the time out of those few, precious moments—really, how often are we in close proximity to Jonas Kaufmann?–to think of her Rodrigo, so far away.

Photo credit: from the Espace Lyrique facebook post of Oct 2016.
Photo credit: from the Espace Lyrique facebook post of Oct 2016.

Now, of course, the official announcement about the long-rumored production is out. It looks to be one for the ages, full of our “opera heroes.” The Bastille is indeed putting on the 5-act Don Carlos in French, with not only Jonas Kaufmann in the title role, but Ildar Abdrazakov as Philippe II, Ludovic Tézier as Rodrigue, Sonya Yoncheva as Élisabeth de Valois, and Elīna Garanča as Eboli. (I still can’t quite believe it…)

To put the icing on the cake, “our” Rodrigo, Thomas Hampson, is in a production of The Merry Widow at the same venue, only the night before! Tickets bought, and there’s no way we can’t get to Paris now. (I’m afraid, once there, it will not be possible to tear me away…)

Of course, getting the tickets are only step one, but we’ve done it. Paris, October 2017, here we come! (Somehow! Extra shifts at work, a few extra sewing orders, a little less sleep…for Carlos? For Thomas, Jonas, Ildar, Ludovic, Elina? Absolutely. Sleep is overrated anyway! :)) Again, Viv saved the day, spending hours navigating internet delays the moment ticket sales went up for Carlos. Truly, another huge gift…I don’t know how it could have been done otherwise.

Just…please God, keep every one of this beautiful cast in good health, for their sakes mostly…and ours too. Anyway, whatever happens, we’ll be able to say:

It is a dream-made-reality. Thanks, all my dear opera buddies and family…thanks for sharing the joy and knowledge constantly. “Vivremo insiem!”

And thank you so much, mio Carlo!

Dio, che nell’alma infondere
Amor volesti e speme
Desio nel cor accendere
Tu dêi di libertà;
Giuriamo insiem di vivere
E di morire insieme;
In terra, in ciel congiungere
Ci può la tua bontà.

~~~

God, who has brought us together,
Fire our hearts with flames of glory,
Fire that is noble and pure,
Fire of love that will set men free!
God, grant that this love may fire us,
May freedom call and inspire us!
Accept the vow that we swear!
We shall die united in love!

(Translation by Andrew Porter, for the English National Opera’s guide, Don Carlos/Don Carlo, 1992.)

Month #1 of (mostly) Met-on-Demand

*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-collageDon 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-2015-collageIl 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…!

magic-flute-branagh-rene-collage**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.

nozze-collageLe 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-2007-collageEugene 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!! 😉 )