WARNING: This is the part of the blog when I turn into a sourpuss! Of course, repeated disappointments will do that to just about anyone.
Before I start, I think we need a recap; I don't think I ever summarized the plot or notes on Mozart's "Don Giovanni".
The story is pretty simple: Don Giovanni is Don Juan, adventurer and womanizer extraordinaire, and Leporello is his obliging and semi-unwilling servant. In act one, we find Don Giovanni running from one of his "conquests," a lady named Donna Anna whose honor he has tried to tarnish. Hearing Anna's cries for help, her father, the Commendatore, arrives on the scene and challenges Giovanni to a duel. The Commendatore is murdered. Giovanni escapes with Leporello, Donna Anna discovers her father's body, and her fiancee Don Ottavio attempts to console her. Meanwhile, Don Giovanni spies new prey, only to discover that it's really a former lover named Donna Elvira, who he promptly abandoned after seducing. She is bitter and vengeful and not about to let Giovanni out of jail free. To distract her, Giovanni has Leporello read her his catalog of the Don's conquests: "Old or young, pretty or plain, mistress or maid, they're all the same-- if it wears a skirt, that's his game!"
In the next scene, a wedding party is in progress: Peasants Masetto and Zerlina are tying the knot. This doesn't stop Giovanni from making passes at Zerlina, almost successfully-- until Donna Elvira interrupts and takes Zerlina away. Just then, Don Ottavio and Donna Anna enter and ask Giovanni's help finding her father's killer, evidently not recognizing him. All is well until Elvira again enters to disrupt Giovanni's deception. Don Giovanni attempts to pass Elvira off as a madwoman, but Anna and Ottavio see through his trick. Elvira and Giovanni exit, and Anna finally realizes that she recognizes Giovanni's voice: He is her father's murderer. Don Giovanni holds a ball at his castle, with all the peasants attending (as well as Ottavio, Elvira, and Anna in masks). Don Giovanni makes further attempts with Zerlina, ultimately ending with his discovery and undoing.
...But it doesn't end there! Giovanni bribes Leporello into one more escapade: Giovanni wants to trade clothes with Leporello in order to pursue Elvira's maid. Leporello poses as the Don and distracts Elvira for him. However, Giovanni's serenade has only just ended when Masetto and a band of peasants enter in pursuit of the Don, out for blood. Posing as Leporello, Giovanni misdirects the peasants (describing the clothes Leporello is now wearing!), and when he and Masetto are alone, Giovanni beats Masetto. Giovanni exits and Zerlina finds Masetto. Meanwhile, Leporello is trapped when Ottavio, Anna, Masetto, and Zerlina find him, planning to kill him despite Elvira's pleas for pity. Leporello drops the disguise and makes a run for it, joining Giovanni in a moonlit cemetery. There, they are confronted by the Commendatore's statue. Giovanni invites the statue to dinner. That night, as Giovanni is enjoying a beautiful feast, Elvira comes in and tries to reason with him. "Change your Life!" she pleads. When he refuses, she exits, and screams-- the Statue comes to pay his respects, and to extend an invitation of his own. In spite of Leporello's desperate warnings, Don Giovanni accepts, giving the statue his hand as a token. The Statue demands Giovanni's repentance, and Giovanni repeatedly refuses. At last, the statue drags Giovanni into Hell, where the villain's soul is torn apart by demons. For the finale, Elvira, Ottavio, Anna, Masetto, and Zerlina come into Giovanni's castle, only to find Leporello, terrified of what he has just witnessed. "Thus is the end of all evildoers," they sing. they contemplate their respective futures and the opera ends.
As I mentioned in "A Tale of Two Dons," there are essentially two different versions: The version Mozart debuted in Hungary, and the version he played in Vienna. The "Viennese" version has tons of extra arias and recitatives including Ottavio's famous aria "Dalla Sua Pace," a recitative and aria for Elvira in which she wonders why she pities Giovanni after all the times he has deceived her, and a duet between Zerlina and Leporello (which is often excluded in most recordings and productions).
When Mozart wrote "Don Giovanni," he invented a whole new genre of opera: The Drama Giocoso, or the jocular drama. He combined comedy and drama, a novelty no other composer had yet attempted. It remains to this day a masterpiece among operas: it has the perfect blend of humor, earnestness, realism, and the supernatural, music that is like the most perfect diamond, and a libretto composed of poetry like no other.
And now, a review:
I absolutely love "Don Giovanni," and I wanted to see what a full production of the opera was like, so I scoured Netflix and finally got what I was after.The cast is as follows:
Don Giovanni: Thomas Allen
Leporello: Ferruccio Furlanetto
Don Ottavio: Kjell Magnus Sandve
Donna Anna: Carolyn James
Donna Elvira: Carol Vaness
Zerlina: Andrea Rost
Masetto: Reinhard Dorn
The Commendatore: Matthias Holle
Conducted by Jose Montes-Baquer.
The setting was 18th- Century, and really lovely. The costumes were great, the sets were simple but effective, and there were some pretty nice effects. However, I feel like this production held a lot of disappointments.
First things first, before I tear this thing apart: Every single voice in this show is LOVELY. Absolutely stunning. If this was just a CD set, I'd totally recommend it. Signore Furlanetto was terrific and absolutely hilarious as Leporello, Thomas Allen was intimidating and slithery as the Don, Carolyn James was tragic and heart-wrenching as Donna Anna, etc. etc. etc. However, the blocking and some other production choices were wrong beyond wrong. One thing that really looked weird was Thomas Allen's hair: an obvious wig in the ugliest pompadour I have ever seen. The man has a pretty long forehead, sure, but the wig partially consisted of fake skin that extended his forehead, which is a BAD IDEA when you're piling hair on top of someone's head. And you know something? 10-inch-high pompadours weren't flattering on anyone then, and they certainly don't flatter anyone now. Secondly, several trios and duets, etc. were blocked so that all the singers did is just turn and face the house and sing. Come on! Couldn't the director have been a little more creative? Just a little? Thirdly, Kjell Magnus Sandve's body language and facial expressions were just so stiff and cold. He practically didn't change the scowl on his face for the whole opera!
And last but most certainly not the least, the thing that always irks me: The Stone Guest Scene. I have seen at least four different versions of this famous scene, the most gratifying of which were in the films "Amadeus" and "Don Giovanni: Unmasked." Fire. Demons. Hell. Punishment. Awesome! But most of the other versions I see online or on DVD are so weird! In this one, for instance, the statue is just like one of those cut-outs at tourist sights that you put your face in and have a friend take a picture. it was a full-sized statue that just sat there on its pedestal while Mr. Holle's head stuck out the top and sang. It was silly! Mr. Allen grabbed onto its hand and writhed a little, and that was pretty much it. Lame!
So now you know why I dislike this particular DVD. If this stuff doesn't sound like anything that would bother you, go ahead and get it and try it out. I'm just saying, to me, it wasn't exactly the perfect "Don Giovanni."
With that, I remain
Your friend and fellow opera-lover,
~R.M.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Hoffman Ballet of Technicolor Doom
....And now, ladies and gentlemen, a story of misadventure, daring, and ultimate despair, a story of operatic floppery like no other!
A few years ago, I was sick with a cold and channel-surfing when I caught an interesting piece on the Turner Classic Films channel: what looked like an opera dubbed over a ballet! I had never seen, heard, or heard of this opera before and did not recognize it. It involved a young gentleman, his friend (a lady in a trouser role), a puppeteer, his assistant, and his rival, and lots and lots of marionettes and dolls, including one in a yellow dress who sang a very charming aria and whom the young gentleman obviously mistook for a real girl. I checked the channel listings to find the title of the film: "The Tales of Hoffman."
In 1953, this film version of Jacques Offenbach's "Les Contes D'Hoffman" (See previous entry "Tales of a Drunk, Depressed Fantasy Author" for plot details) was made in England. It starred a whole score of world-famous dancers and opera singers. It was the inspiration behind other directors' careers, it was a sensation, it was-- well, I'll tell you.
This film was my first introduction to "Hoffman." I absolutely fell in love with the Doll Song after seeing that clip of the film on telly. So, just a few months ago, I ordered the DVD from Netflix, just to see what the whole thing was like. For the most part, it was pretty interesting. It has several superfluous ballets inserted and several major numbers removed. For instance, the overture is a pan-over of the rooftops of Hoffman's town, but the opening "Glou, glou, glou!" is set to a "Dragonfly Ballet" with Moira Shearer (supposed to be Stella performing) and Edmond Audran. No Muse, no monologue, no spirits of wine and beer, just the dancers, and indistinct voices in the background mumble-singing "Glou, glou glou" in English. After that are some explanatory shots of Lindorf and Stella's servant. Lindorf's lines and opening aria are cut. Then we get to the bar-- Luther's tavern. Things get a little more accurate there, and the English translations aren't half bad. Heck, they threw in a ballet of Kleinzach when Hoffman sings "Il était une fois à la cour d'Eisenach". Cute. Charming. Whatever. On we head to Olympia-- a very Disney-like story book page shows us the cast of the story, as well as the setting. There is a new setting for every tale, as well as a new cast (for the most part). It's a very interesting production, really-- Spalanzani, Cochenille, Coppeliús, Hoffman, and Nicklausse are the only people who are real, and even Cochenille is only half-human. Everyone else is marionettes and dolls. Coppeliús's design is a little freaky. There are eyes sewn all over his coat (Ha-ha, very funny touch, Mr. Costume Designer) and although you can't see it in the picture, his eyebrows literally stuck four inches off of his face! I was pleased that they kept his aria in. It's a great piece, and they did some really interesting things with all the weird spectacles and pince-nez. Moira Shearer (who danced) and Dorothy Bond (who sang) rocked the mic as Olympia! They were the coolest version of Olympia I have yet seen. Odd choices in this act? Olympia starts brushing Hoffman off when they're alone and he accidentally "pushes the wrong button" as it were. In the opera, she simply runs off, which leaves him confused. Also, when Coppeliús takes her apart, the director cleverly used a black velvet background and pieces of matching black velvet to cover the various ligaments that are "broken." Howevever, this was shoddily done: the editing of the effect was choppy and amateur, there are some moments where the velvet on Moira Shearer slides up and you can see her skin, and for the final shot of her disassembled body, you can clearly make out her form, with one leg still exposed in the Olympia costume, sitting on a platform while the said remaining leg "dances" on its own.
Giulietta Act: Totally freaking creepy!!! The opening shows Giulietta in her weird, skin-tight, green bodysuit on a gondolier singing "Belle Nuit" with her own reflection-- uh, weird! In her house, there are all these scantily clad people lying around on stone tablets making out and eating, and Hoffman suddenly has a mustache. Uh, really weird! Dapertutto dances around a hall turning candlewax into jewels while singing a poorly-translated English version of "Scintille, diamant," and offers Giulietta a poorly-designed and mismatched necklace of said wax-jewels, and there's some more terrible special effects editing as he turns them into a string of multicolored wax round her neck and back into jewels again. Also, the beautiful sextet "Helas, mon coeur s'egare encore" consists merely of Hoffman walking around in a circle and each joining part of the sextet following him in that circle. That's all they do. Just walk in a circle and sing. Totally weird! Also, in the part where Hoffman loses his reflection, he and Giulietta dance in front of what looks like a mirror, but is in fact and empty space, into the distance of which are dancing another pair of dancers as the reflections of Hoffman and Giulietta, and eventually, the second Hoffman disappears. How can I tell? The "reflection" couple got out of sync a couple of times. Too weird!
Antonia Act: Lots of bad, bad choices. They set it on an island in Greece, which is strange considering the libretto specifically says in one of Crespel's lines that they're in Munich.They cut Frantz's aria, which didn't bother me so much because I find that one a little annoying, but whatever. Dr. Miracle looks exactly like Dracula. Come on, production designer! Couldn't you have come up with something a little more original? Most of Crespel's lines are cut, they made some really strange directing choices with the trio that starts with "Si vous voulez accepeter mon secours," i.e., it was pretty much all shots of either the Dr. and Crespel or Antonia running around her room looking scared. And the one thing that really irked me about this act: When Antonia and Miracle and Antonia's mother (in this production, a statue) have their duet, you see these lights shining behind the statue-- but it stays a statue. You'd think that with all the money these people obviously spent on costumes, sets, special effects, the hiring of dancers and singers, etc., that they could at least bring the statue to life (or fix the weird editing from the two prior acts). Come on!
Last act: There is another superfluous ballet in which Hoffman's Three Loves and Three Nemeses dance around and eventually turn into Stella and Lindorf. Nice little way to explain things to an audience, but you can cut those dances down by like, ten minutes! And then, after everyone leaves, Stella enters, finds Hoffman drunk, and leaves with Lindorf. Final pet peeve? They cut the Muse's revelation. I sat through two and a half hours of blinding technicolor drug trip ballets, and I don't get to see Hoffman have his happy ending with the Muse?? NO FREAKING WAY. Those are two and a half hours of my life I will never get back. Apparently, they filmed that ending (and painted the actress who played the Muse in gold leaf for it) but decided to cut it out of the film. Lamesauce, guys!
The casting was really excellent. Robert Rounseville and Ann Ayars, who played Hoffman and Antonia, respectively, were the only cast members who sang their own roles.
Lindorf, Coppeliús, Dapertutto, Dr. Miracle: Bruce Dargavel sang and Robert Helpmann danced.
Nicklausse: Acted by Pamela Brown, sung by Monica Sinclair
Olympia and Stella: Danced by Moira Shearer and Olympia sung by Dorothy Bond.
Giulietta: Danced by Ludmilla Tchérina, sung by Margherita Grandi
Spalanzani, Frantz, Schlemil: Léonide Massine danced, and Grahame Clifford sang Spalanzani and Frantz.
Kleinzach and Cochenille were danced by Frederick Ashton and Cochenille and Nathaniel were sung by Murray Dickie.
Hermann, Schlemil, and Crespel were sung by Owen Brannigan and danced by Richard Golding, Léonide Massine, and Mogens Wieth, respectively.
The dubbing was absolutely awful. I understand, it's hard to concentrate on your mouth when you're moving around so much, but no one should try to get away with that in a movie! Of all the ballerinas and danseurs (yes, that is the proper term for a male ballet dancer), Ludmilla Tchérina was the most consistent about lip syncing. Snaps to her! The sound quality of this film is terrible. It's in English, and I still have to put on subtitles because I can't hear a single ruddy word anyone is saying! And, as was usual in the early 50's when filmmakers were still experimenting with color film, every single color in this film is not in any particular set palette and therefore clashes with every other color, and all of these gaudy, clashing colors are horribly bright and saturated. It's blinding! And ballet is nice and all, but two and a half hours of a creepy, technicolor ballet? That's a little much for me, and I'm all for weird forms of theatre.
So what's my verdict? Unless you are more curious than that cat that got killed, don't bother with this movie. It holds many disappointments. I hope you enjoyed the review, and as always, I remain,
Your friend and fellow opera-lover,
~R.M.
A few years ago, I was sick with a cold and channel-surfing when I caught an interesting piece on the Turner Classic Films channel: what looked like an opera dubbed over a ballet! I had never seen, heard, or heard of this opera before and did not recognize it. It involved a young gentleman, his friend (a lady in a trouser role), a puppeteer, his assistant, and his rival, and lots and lots of marionettes and dolls, including one in a yellow dress who sang a very charming aria and whom the young gentleman obviously mistook for a real girl. I checked the channel listings to find the title of the film: "The Tales of Hoffman."
In 1953, this film version of Jacques Offenbach's "Les Contes D'Hoffman" (See previous entry "Tales of a Drunk, Depressed Fantasy Author" for plot details) was made in England. It starred a whole score of world-famous dancers and opera singers. It was the inspiration behind other directors' careers, it was a sensation, it was-- well, I'll tell you.
Giulietta Act: Totally freaking creepy!!! The opening shows Giulietta in her weird, skin-tight, green bodysuit on a gondolier singing "Belle Nuit" with her own reflection-- uh, weird! In her house, there are all these scantily clad people lying around on stone tablets making out and eating, and Hoffman suddenly has a mustache. Uh, really weird! Dapertutto dances around a hall turning candlewax into jewels while singing a poorly-translated English version of "Scintille, diamant," and offers Giulietta a poorly-designed and mismatched necklace of said wax-jewels, and there's some more terrible special effects editing as he turns them into a string of multicolored wax round her neck and back into jewels again. Also, the beautiful sextet "Helas, mon coeur s'egare encore" consists merely of Hoffman walking around in a circle and each joining part of the sextet following him in that circle. That's all they do. Just walk in a circle and sing. Totally weird! Also, in the part where Hoffman loses his reflection, he and Giulietta dance in front of what looks like a mirror, but is in fact and empty space, into the distance of which are dancing another pair of dancers as the reflections of Hoffman and Giulietta, and eventually, the second Hoffman disappears. How can I tell? The "reflection" couple got out of sync a couple of times. Too weird!
Antonia Act: Lots of bad, bad choices. They set it on an island in Greece, which is strange considering the libretto specifically says in one of Crespel's lines that they're in Munich.They cut Frantz's aria, which didn't bother me so much because I find that one a little annoying, but whatever. Dr. Miracle looks exactly like Dracula. Come on, production designer! Couldn't you have come up with something a little more original? Most of Crespel's lines are cut, they made some really strange directing choices with the trio that starts with "Si vous voulez accepeter mon secours," i.e., it was pretty much all shots of either the Dr. and Crespel or Antonia running around her room looking scared. And the one thing that really irked me about this act: When Antonia and Miracle and Antonia's mother (in this production, a statue) have their duet, you see these lights shining behind the statue-- but it stays a statue. You'd think that with all the money these people obviously spent on costumes, sets, special effects, the hiring of dancers and singers, etc., that they could at least bring the statue to life (or fix the weird editing from the two prior acts). Come on!
Last act: There is another superfluous ballet in which Hoffman's Three Loves and Three Nemeses dance around and eventually turn into Stella and Lindorf. Nice little way to explain things to an audience, but you can cut those dances down by like, ten minutes! And then, after everyone leaves, Stella enters, finds Hoffman drunk, and leaves with Lindorf. Final pet peeve? They cut the Muse's revelation. I sat through two and a half hours of blinding technicolor drug trip ballets, and I don't get to see Hoffman have his happy ending with the Muse?? NO FREAKING WAY. Those are two and a half hours of my life I will never get back. Apparently, they filmed that ending (and painted the actress who played the Muse in gold leaf for it) but decided to cut it out of the film. Lamesauce, guys!
The casting was really excellent. Robert Rounseville and Ann Ayars, who played Hoffman and Antonia, respectively, were the only cast members who sang their own roles.
Lindorf, Coppeliús, Dapertutto, Dr. Miracle: Bruce Dargavel sang and Robert Helpmann danced.
Nicklausse: Acted by Pamela Brown, sung by Monica Sinclair
Olympia and Stella: Danced by Moira Shearer and Olympia sung by Dorothy Bond.
Giulietta: Danced by Ludmilla Tchérina, sung by Margherita Grandi
Spalanzani, Frantz, Schlemil: Léonide Massine danced, and Grahame Clifford sang Spalanzani and Frantz.
Kleinzach and Cochenille were danced by Frederick Ashton and Cochenille and Nathaniel were sung by Murray Dickie.
Hermann, Schlemil, and Crespel were sung by Owen Brannigan and danced by Richard Golding, Léonide Massine, and Mogens Wieth, respectively.
The dubbing was absolutely awful. I understand, it's hard to concentrate on your mouth when you're moving around so much, but no one should try to get away with that in a movie! Of all the ballerinas and danseurs (yes, that is the proper term for a male ballet dancer), Ludmilla Tchérina was the most consistent about lip syncing. Snaps to her! The sound quality of this film is terrible. It's in English, and I still have to put on subtitles because I can't hear a single ruddy word anyone is saying! And, as was usual in the early 50's when filmmakers were still experimenting with color film, every single color in this film is not in any particular set palette and therefore clashes with every other color, and all of these gaudy, clashing colors are horribly bright and saturated. It's blinding! And ballet is nice and all, but two and a half hours of a creepy, technicolor ballet? That's a little much for me, and I'm all for weird forms of theatre.
So what's my verdict? Unless you are more curious than that cat that got killed, don't bother with this movie. It holds many disappointments. I hope you enjoyed the review, and as always, I remain,
Your friend and fellow opera-lover,
~R.M.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Il Trovatore, Live from the Met 2011
The Metropolitan Opera, for those of you who don't know, has a new Simulcast program: Every couple of weeks, they broadcast a performance of one of their operas live to movie theaters all over the country (and all over the world!). Hit performances from this program include the 2009 "Lucia di Lammermoor" (Which I reviewed briefly-- see entry "Bloody Lucia"-- I'll probably go deeper into it later) and "Les Contes D'Hoffman." I am a huge fan of this program-- the productions are awesome, the best singers in the world come to perform them, performers and directors are interviewed during intermissions, and it's just plain fun to get to go to operas in a town where there aren't many opera houses. Tickets are $24 a pop, but it is totally worth it! Check out the program and find a participating theater near you at:
http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/broadcast/hd_events_next.aspx
I looked ahead at their schedule back in 2010 and saw that this year they would be doing "Il Trovatore," and that my favorite "Silver-haired fox" Russian opera star (If you hadn't guessed already, DMITRI HVOROSTOVSKY) would be starring as the ever determined and vengefully cruel Count di Luna. "I'm not missing that," I said, "Not for all the bagels in New York!" So I wrote it down, stuck it to my desk, and waited. FOR A YEAR. I even set aside ticket money sometime before Christmas. I knew I wouldn't have much extra money around, so I held out, and although I was interested in "Le Comte Ory," I did not attend any other simulcasts.
Well, my friends, yesterday I grabbed a pal and my labeled envelope with its precious cargo of pre-purchased tickets and headed to the movies. Here is how it went:
Manrico was sung by Marcelo Álvarez, Leonora by Sondra Radvanovsky, Di Luna by Dmitri Hvorostovsky, and Azucena by Dolora Zajick. I have summarized the plot of "Trovatore" in my previous post, "...But Save the Troubadour!" if you would like to refresh your memory.
The voices were stunning, and that is an understatement. It was thrilling to listen to these people sing. Where Leontyne Price had sounded scratchy and stressed on recording, Radvanovsky soared. Her voice was smooth, velvety, full of grace and power. And her facial expressions and body language were beyond dead on! She is the perfect Leonora. Dolora Zajick also had a soulful and powerful quality to her voice, and she was terrifying as Azucena-- crazy to the core yet still weirdly in control. Hvorostovsky, of course, was brilliant-- Has he ever really been anything less? He really makes himself into his characters, which is one of the many things I respect about him, and he did a great job as di Luna: Fierce, bitter, unrelenting, everything you could ask for in a baritone-villain. But there was something about that tenor...
Now understand, I don't have a prejudice against tenors or against Signore Álvarez for that matter. His voice is lovely. Well-controlled. Elegant. But he was doing something very odd, and I'm surprised that the director let him get away with it. He was making the strangest gestures with his hands, as if he couldn't quite figure out what to do with them, in the middle of sustained notes and ornamentations. A professor of mine once told me, "Onstage, you want to keep things simple. Unnecessary movement confuses the audience and distracts them from what you're really trying to do." Álvarez didn't need to move his hands or arms at all-- the strange gestures he chose indeed confused and distracted me, because instead of looking like a serious, courageous, and love-lorn man, he looked like he had some mix between epilepsy and ADD. No offense to people who really do have these disorders; I understand that it's hard and it's something that can't be helped. All I'm saying is that this singer was doing it, to some extent or another, on purpose, and it was just plain odd.
The setting of this production was really interesting: Regency! That's right, empire-waist dresses, 1830's military uniforms, the whole deal. And the set rotated! It made the transition between scenes so much easier and clearer for the audience. There were a couple of moments were the stage fighting and applications of fake blood and make-up really impressed me. All-in-all, it was a beautifully done show. Now, of this production, I could find only one other fault. It came at the opening of Act III, Scene I.
Ferrando and his men are waiting outside di Luna's castle, singing of the victory they are going to win, etc. etc., and all of a sudden, Ferrando brings in a bunch of hookers! "All right," I think to myself, "Whatever. This is an opera. An opera at the Met. Surely it can't get too raunchy." BUT IT DID. It was really rather disturbing and vulgar, and hey, I'm a goody-goody who doesn't watch sex on TV, but you know what? Sex never belonged onstage in the first place! Opera is a high-class form of theatre. The Met is a high-class opera house. Nowhere in the opera or libretto are hookers ever mentioned. Verdi obviously never intended for that to be part of the show. There are four adjectives that describe the hookers in the Met's "Il Trovatore": They were cheap, inappropriate, disturbing, and completely unnecessary. It really disappointed me.
But other than the purposeless hookers and Álvarez's hand issues, the opera was fantabulous, to say the very least. Apparently, it will be encoring on May 18, so if you're ready for some intense Verdian fun, order yourselves some tickets or go label an envelope with some ticket-money inside.
Until next time,
Your friend and fellow opera-fan,
R.M.
http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/broadcast/hd_events_next.aspx
I looked ahead at their schedule back in 2010 and saw that this year they would be doing "Il Trovatore," and that my favorite "Silver-haired fox" Russian opera star (If you hadn't guessed already, DMITRI HVOROSTOVSKY) would be starring as the ever determined and vengefully cruel Count di Luna. "I'm not missing that," I said, "Not for all the bagels in New York!" So I wrote it down, stuck it to my desk, and waited. FOR A YEAR. I even set aside ticket money sometime before Christmas. I knew I wouldn't have much extra money around, so I held out, and although I was interested in "Le Comte Ory," I did not attend any other simulcasts.
Well, my friends, yesterday I grabbed a pal and my labeled envelope with its precious cargo of pre-purchased tickets and headed to the movies. Here is how it went:
Manrico was sung by Marcelo Álvarez, Leonora by Sondra Radvanovsky, Di Luna by Dmitri Hvorostovsky, and Azucena by Dolora Zajick. I have summarized the plot of "Trovatore" in my previous post, "...But Save the Troubadour!" if you would like to refresh your memory.
The voices were stunning, and that is an understatement. It was thrilling to listen to these people sing. Where Leontyne Price had sounded scratchy and stressed on recording, Radvanovsky soared. Her voice was smooth, velvety, full of grace and power. And her facial expressions and body language were beyond dead on! She is the perfect Leonora. Dolora Zajick also had a soulful and powerful quality to her voice, and she was terrifying as Azucena-- crazy to the core yet still weirdly in control. Hvorostovsky, of course, was brilliant-- Has he ever really been anything less? He really makes himself into his characters, which is one of the many things I respect about him, and he did a great job as di Luna: Fierce, bitter, unrelenting, everything you could ask for in a baritone-villain. But there was something about that tenor...
Now understand, I don't have a prejudice against tenors or against Signore Álvarez for that matter. His voice is lovely. Well-controlled. Elegant. But he was doing something very odd, and I'm surprised that the director let him get away with it. He was making the strangest gestures with his hands, as if he couldn't quite figure out what to do with them, in the middle of sustained notes and ornamentations. A professor of mine once told me, "Onstage, you want to keep things simple. Unnecessary movement confuses the audience and distracts them from what you're really trying to do." Álvarez didn't need to move his hands or arms at all-- the strange gestures he chose indeed confused and distracted me, because instead of looking like a serious, courageous, and love-lorn man, he looked like he had some mix between epilepsy and ADD. No offense to people who really do have these disorders; I understand that it's hard and it's something that can't be helped. All I'm saying is that this singer was doing it, to some extent or another, on purpose, and it was just plain odd.
The setting of this production was really interesting: Regency! That's right, empire-waist dresses, 1830's military uniforms, the whole deal. And the set rotated! It made the transition between scenes so much easier and clearer for the audience. There were a couple of moments were the stage fighting and applications of fake blood and make-up really impressed me. All-in-all, it was a beautifully done show. Now, of this production, I could find only one other fault. It came at the opening of Act III, Scene I.
Ferrando and his men are waiting outside di Luna's castle, singing of the victory they are going to win, etc. etc., and all of a sudden, Ferrando brings in a bunch of hookers! "All right," I think to myself, "Whatever. This is an opera. An opera at the Met. Surely it can't get too raunchy." BUT IT DID. It was really rather disturbing and vulgar, and hey, I'm a goody-goody who doesn't watch sex on TV, but you know what? Sex never belonged onstage in the first place! Opera is a high-class form of theatre. The Met is a high-class opera house. Nowhere in the opera or libretto are hookers ever mentioned. Verdi obviously never intended for that to be part of the show. There are four adjectives that describe the hookers in the Met's "Il Trovatore": They were cheap, inappropriate, disturbing, and completely unnecessary. It really disappointed me.
But other than the purposeless hookers and Álvarez's hand issues, the opera was fantabulous, to say the very least. Apparently, it will be encoring on May 18, so if you're ready for some intense Verdian fun, order yourselves some tickets or go label an envelope with some ticket-money inside.
Until next time,
Your friend and fellow opera-fan,
R.M.
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