Enchanted Island...or is it?

I know it has been eons since I lasted posted, but please keep in mind, I'm a full-time student (i.e. No money for new recordings or opera tickets, and precious few opportunities to actually attend an opera without serious academic consequences). But, there is still hope!

On January 27th, I managed to get out and see the New York Met's new Baroque pastiche, "The Enchanted Island." It sounded promising-- a Baroque pastiche (meaning songs and music by several different Baroque-era composers were jumbled together in an operatic gumbo) with a Shakespearean theme. The story involved the four lovers from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" crashing onto Prospero's Island, and it was to be performed by a stellar cast including my new favorite Luca Pisaroni (as Caliban). What's not to like, right?

Oh, if only you knew...

But then, that's why I write this blog. Well, let's get this thing started! Cast is as follows:

Sycorax--Joyce DiDonato, Soprano
Prospero--David Daniels, Counter-tenor
Ariel--Danielle de Niese, Soprano
Caliban--Luca Pisaroni, Baritone
Miranda--Lisette Oropesa, Soprano
Neptune--Plácido Domingo, Tenor
Ferdinand--Anthony Roth Costanzo, Counter-tenor (Yes, there were two!)
Helena--Lyla Claire, Soprano
Demetrius--Paul Appleby, Tenor
Hermia--Elizabeth DeShong, Mezzo-Soprano
Lysander--Elliot Madore, Baritone

Plus a chorus of mer-people who chill with Neptune and a full orchestra under the baton of William Christie.

So... I'll start with some good points. The authors of the pastiche chose absolutely stunning pieces. I was rather surprised, not usually being a big Baroque fan-- indeed, very pleasantly surprised. Also, I had never heard a counter-tenor before, so I was a little shocked at first to hear what sounded like a mezzo-soprano's voice coming from a middle-aged man's mouth. But after awhile, I could distinguish his voice as definitely masculine despite the high pitch. The costumes and sets were to die for! "Wild" characters like Caliban and Sycorax had touches like dreadlocks and feathers and beads and wore richly colored, sumptuous fabrics. Sycorax herself went through three separate costume changes over the course of the show. Miranda was clad in a flowing, Grecian gown and wore an armband with a few feathers and beads of her own. The four lovers of "A Midsummer's Night Dream" started out in delightful and charming 18th-century garb in sweet pastel shades. Ariel (my favorite character, other than perhaps Caliban) wore a neat little suit of feathers complete with mechanically bound wings, and later, a glorious gold chiton and headdress. I could go on, but I doubt you want me to, so I'll move on to sets. The sets consisted of a sort of archway that changed appearances with the assistance of projections-- sometimes it showed us Prospero's castle, sometimes a luxurious beach, sometimes a wild jungle, sometimes Sycorax's cave-like perch. It also transformed into the mysterious and alluring underwater realm of Neptune. How Neptune managed to sneak into a Shakespeare play, I don't know. But he's there, and it turned out pretty nicely. Another interesting and rather charming touch was that the prompter (a person who stands in a hidden booth downstage to "prompt" singers with queues) handed Ariel props in a playful and comical manner, much akin to a child's puppet show.

The performances were brilliant. Prospero was dark and serious and complicated, Sycorax, darker, more vengeful, yet oddly caring and protective over Caliban. Caliban himself was the best example of a sympathetic "antagonist:" bitter but pitiful. Personally, I've never seen Caliban as a villain per se. I felt empathy for Pisaroni's Caliban-- he could never get what he wanted, even when he created a dream world for himself. Also, his English diction was impeccable! I was very impressed. Ariel was especially fun. De Niese brought a Puckish, Tinkerbell-ish, perhaps even Papageno-ish energy to the role, and you could hear her laughter when she sang; she took joy in the role. It's refreshing to hear that joy again.

Well, there are also choices that weren't so great... For starters, the libretto. Oooooh, I had soo many issues with the libretto. The opera was Shakespearean-themed and set in the 18th century. However, author Jeremy Sams couldn't quite decide between Shakespearean and contemporary English in his "poetry." It's bad enough that this thing wasn't in Italian or something, but to be inconsistent with the language is always a really bad idea. Some of the lyrics were pretty enough, but every now and again I heard something like, "Duh!" or "O.K." or "Come on". Somewhere or other, Miranda and Lysander discover "We rhyme!" It was ridiculous and confusing. At another point, Lysander and Demetrius fight over Miranda, and one gives the other a nipple-twist. Now, my generation has acronyms for this level of confusion... I believe the letters "W-T-F" suit the situation rather nicely. There were a couple of other "WTF" moments in "The Enchanted Island." When Ferdinand was expected to show up, Prospero has a "Welcome Ferdinand" sign and some balloons strung up in the projections. When were ballons invented again? Oh yeah, 1824. Neptune's chorus of mermaids and underwater people consisted of a giant cardboard cut-out with the heads of the singers sticking out in various places. It looked laughable for the audience and uncomfortable for the singers. And as far as Neptune's involvement went, I was really confused by his attitude as a character. He seemed like the god we all know him to be at first: powerful, old as time, pissy at mankind, etc. But he would pause after griping about how men treated the sea (perhaps Sams wanted a little environmentalist preaching?) and say something along the lines of, "Oh, I'm just a grumpy old man. Pardon my whining." No, Neptune! You have reasons to be mad at humans-- stick to your guns! You're not some senile old man, you're the god of the sea!! Another thing that confused me is that Prospero seems utterly distracted with getting ready for Ferdinand's arrival. We do not see Ferdinand until well into Act II. Couldn't we have gotten a glimpse of the guy near the end of Act I as a teaser?

I went to "The Enchanted Island" with an open mind. A new Baroque pastiche! Based on "The Tempest" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream"! The idea had so much promise. But I'm afraid it is my opinion that the New York Met's little experiment did not live up to the potential it had.

I shall post one more blog of gripes, this one concerning "Ernani," and then, we shall come to a happier note about this year's production of "L'Elisir D'Amore."

Until then, I remain

Your friend and fellow opera-lover,

~R.M.
         

Of a Most Delightful Don

Hello, everybody!

I simply couldn't resist telling you all about this wonderful simulcast I had the honor of attending! This passed Saturday, I went to the simulcast of "Don Giovanni" Live from the Met. It was the most amazing production I have ever seen or heard. Details, details, details! We must have details!!

The cast is as follows:

Don Giovanni-- Mariusz Kwiecien
Leporello-- Luca Pisaroni
The Commendatore-- Stefan Kocan (unfortunately, I can't type symbols on this computer-- my apologies for spelling the names wrong)
Donna Elvira-- Barbara Frittoli
Donna Anna-- Marina Rebeka
Don Ottavio-- Ramon Vargas
Zerlina-- Mojca Erdmann
Masetto-- Joshua Bloom


And the orchestra was conducted by Fabio Luisi, who also played all of the harpsichord recitatives.


If you don't already know the story of Mozart's "Don Giovanni," see my previous entry "Of Disappointing Dons". The sets were simple, but easy to understand and well-done: Walls of shuttered doors, some of which opened to allow major characters onto balconies for dramatic effect or to display the Don's past conquests. Also, in the Graveyard scene, there was a structure akin to a giant bookcase that displayed the statues in the cemetery, including a massive, animated statue of the Commendatore.  


Well, the opera starts under the flawless direction of Signore Luisi, and we find Leporello waiting for the Don. Pisaroni's Leporello was hilarious, lively, and best of all? Believable. In fact, all of the singers were so engrossed in their roles, I was forced to look at characters I once found apathetic or boring in a whole new light. Each individual put all of their heart and soul into their part. But I must continue. The Don arrives, evidently still trying to molest Donna Anna. Kwiecien (which I recently learned is pronounced KVEH-chen, for anybody who wants to know)is an incredible Don. When I saw him as Enrico in "Lucia di Lammermoor" a few years back, he said in a backstage interview that Don Giovanni was one of his favorite roles to sing. He is smashing at it, simply smashing!! He's so hard to like, but simultaneously so hard to hate. His chemistry with Pisaroni was incredible. Pisaroni said he wanted to make his recitatives sound like real conversation, and he really achieved it-- everyone did-- and he and Kwiecien played off of each other brilliantly. Rebeka's Donna Anna was touching, graceful and never shrill. I have heard a few shrill Donna Annas, and perhaps that is what has made me feel a little distant from her character. But seeing Rebeka's Donna Anna! You could hear and see the pain, the shock, the heartbreak, and anger in her character. Rebeka truly brought the role of Donna Anna to life. Vargas, too was incredible, and made me see Don Ottavio in a better light. He sang "Dalla Sua Pace" with such feeling, such grace, such gentility-- it was impossible not to respect the character. And he went through the runs in "Il Mio Tesoro Intanto" like they were nothing, hardly ever stopping for breath! It was amazing. Signora Frittoli played up Donna Elvira was more weepy than I would imagine her, but she pulled it off well, wobbling and swigging from a flask during "Ah, Chi Mi Dice Mai". Her voice is so velvety, and her expressions so perfect and pleading, I cannot imagine this role being done better by any other soprano. She was absolutely perfect. Mojca Erdmann, our Zerlina, accented the coquettinsh, naughty side of Zerlina quite a bit, and did it convincingly. She added some ornamentation to both of her solo arias that were really stunning. And my word, her Masetto was brilliant! So vibrant and active in voice, body, and facial expression. He added a delightful youthfulness to the role. If I ever play Zerlina, I should hope to be paired with a Masetto like Mr. Bloom. And last, but certainly not least, Stefan Kocan gave a performance like no other as the Commendatore! His voice is so powerful and clear, his enunciation so spotless, and his face has such an immense intensity and passion. He had me holding my breath in the final scene!


Here are some things I really loved about this production:


The stage directing was really creative and lively. There was almost never a time when you felt like you were just watching people stand there and sing. In the end of the Ball scene at Don Giovanni's house, they introduced a very interesting twist, though not in the libretto, that makes the Don's escape from his accusers make so much sense. He comes out with a knife to Leporello's throat, and Don Ottavio aims a pistol at him. The Don drops Leporello and quickly ensnares Donna Anna, threatening her with the knife, forcing Don Ottavio to put down the gun and let the Don and his servant go. Then, in the Graveyard scene, when Leporello asks the statue to dinner, I thought that the thing wouldn't move-- I've seen it happen in other productions. But lo and behold, the statue turned his head and menacingly raised his arm! You'd think I had never seen stage gadgetry before, I was so surprised. Ah, and lastly, the Stone Guest scene. I have seen so many ridiculous and disappointing interpretations of the most climactic and important scene in the opera, but this one terrfied, excited, and thrilled me! Stefan Kocan enters, dressed and painted to match the previously seen statue-- no still statue, no carboard-cut-out ridiculousness, the man himself-- and when Don Giovanni refuses to repent, smoke pours out of the floor, the doors of the set open to reveal ominous hooded demons, the floorboards come up and release gushes of flames, and Kwiecien is dragged into a hole in the floor, still writhing and  trying to crawl and pull himself out. You could hear his pain and terror and anguish as he sang. It was PERFECT, absolutely no doubt about it PERFECT. (Ok, maybe that sounded a little morbid on my part, but good heavens! It was so much better than any other staging of the scene that I have ever sat through, and I've sat through a lot!)


I have only two complaints about this production, and both are relatively minor:
Firstly, I think that "stage make-out" was used over-extensively. At some points, it looks a little silly because the singers are moving so quickly-- it's a tad ridiculous. Also, the stage director got it into his head that the aria "Vedrai, Carino" really got quite erotic. Listening to it, it's really not as sexy as all that. Yes, Zerlina tells Masetto to touch where her heart is and feel her heartbeat ("Sentir la battere, toca mi qua"). But it got way more frisky than that. And yes, there was a fair bit of awkward touching as far as the Don and his conquests, but strangely, I was more insulted by the introduction of the hookers in "Il Trovatore" this April. The stuff that happened in "Don Giovanni" was relatively tame in comparison.
Secondly, the camera work got a bit choppy at times, just once or twice, and made it a little distracting, in my opinion at least. It felt visually disconcerting, but it only happened, aforesaid, once, maybe twice.

Another little note: All of the backstage interviews were really insightful! In particular, Ramon Vargas talked about how the thing to remember about this opera is that it all takes place over the course of 24 hours. For some reason, I had never thought about it that way before! It put the whole thing in such a new perspective, I was really touched. Also, Luca Pisaroni talked about adjusting to the different Dons he has performed with, and Barbara Frittoli explained why she thought Elvira was more madly in love than just plain mad. It was really really interesting!


I have emailed the New York Metropolitan opera to find out if this amazing simulcast will ever be released onto DVD, because I would LOVE to have it in my possession. It is the perfect "Don Giovanni". I will forever be amazed and awestruck by it. There is an encore broadcast on November 16, 2011 at 6:30 PM local time. I am hoping to be able to take a friend when the encore comes-- I am dying to share the experience with him! This is the perfect first "Don Giovanni" for anyone who is unfamiliar with the opera. I am really crossing my fingers and toes and hoping that the Met releases this on DVD. Anybody interested in the DVD, go send the Met a comment and tell them so here:


http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/utility/contact/index.aspx


I highly, highly recommend this simulcast!!!


Until next time,


Your friend and fellow opera-lover,


~R.M.

A Return to Lammermoor

Hello, everyone!


I know, I haven't posted anything in quite a while, and it's quite shameful. But I will say, I've been having a very busy summer, and I most humbly offer my apologies to whatever nonexistent "following" I have here on Blogger.com. 


So, I believe the last promise I managed to make in my blog was to review the new copy of "Lucia di Lammermoor" I bought on Amazon. I've been giving it a lot of thought, and here it goes.


If you take a look back at the entry "Bloody Lucia," you'll find a summary of the plot and a couple of different recommendations. One of them was a recording with the following cast:


Lucia-- Beverly Sills
Edgardo-- Carlo Bergonzi
Enrico-- Piero Cappucilli
Raimondo-- Justino Diaz
Arturo-- Adolf Dallapozza
Alisa-- Patricia Kern
Normanno-- Keith Erwen


Now, there are lots of good things to say about this recording, but I would say that there are also a couple of very minor issues as well. Of course, I've been listening to the Sutherland/Pavarotti/Milnes one for a long time, and naturally, I've become accustomed to it. Carlo Bergonzi is no Pavarotti, And Justino Diaz is no Ghiaurov. BUT! This is not a criticism, it's an honest fact. These singers are different and unique and special in their own ways. They don't need to be alike, because they're all good, just in different ways.


Now, I'd like to say a few things. I have come to appreciate certain aspects of the different singers. As much as I love the tone and pitch and airy quality of Beverly Sills's voice, she adds a lot of unnecessary and sometimes confusing ornamentation. Simultaneously, as much as I don't like the pitch of Joan Sutherland's voice in her later career, I do like that she kept things relatively simple, straightforward, and accurate to the original score. And another thing-- Pavarotti was truly an amazing singer, one of the greatest tenors who ever lived. Naturally, after hearing his heartfelt rendition of Edgardo, Bergonzi isn't quite the same, but aforesaid, that isn't necessarily a bad thing. There were only two things that really bothered me about Bergonzi's performance. First, he uses the "glottal" effect excessively. It honestly gets a little annoying after the first few times he does it. Also, it is difficult for the listener to hear what emotions Bergonzi is using when he sings. I would like to imagine that he is acting, but it's very difficult to tell. It my personal opinion (and I have heard professional singers say similar things) that if a singer doesn't believe in his character and make a conscious decision to "become" his character, there's no magic. There's nothing to make us want to hear the story, in fact, there's no story at all. How can there be a story without characters? If we can't understand or at least care about the characters, how can we care what happens to them?


Pardon me, I just went off on a tangent. But it is something that needs to be said, and it's something that applies to all singers, past, present, and future.


Similarly, I thought Diaz's performance was a trifle cold at times, and the glass harmonica... oh the glass harmonica... I would like to say a few words in regards to the infamous glass harmonica. The instrument was played by the estimable Bruno Hoffman. I will not tell a lie; I have heard many, many people play the instrument more skillfully. When Hoffman plays it, one hears quite a lot of a most wretched scratching sound. I don't know what goes on to make such a sound, but it is most certainly NOT what a glass harmonica is supposed to sound like. If you want a good example of what they're supposed to sound like, look up Robert Tiso on Youtube. Anyway, Hoffman somehow managed to pull himself together with this recording of the Mad Scene-- it really wasn't half bad! The first few times I listened to it, I was using a faulty speaker system and thought the sound was too "scrapey" and too soft. However, I gave it another listen recently, and found that it really wasn't so bad. So beyond the other (again, very slight) problems I mentioned, I have no complaints. On the contrary, I find it incredibly enjoyable. I especially liked the fact that it was recorded in such a fashion that every singer can be distinctly heard. There's hardly ever a time when every single voice cannot be individually heard and told apart from the others, and it makes for such a crystal clear and easy-to-understand rendition of the opera. I love it!! I also love Cappucilli's performance of Enrico. It was thrilling, absolutely thrilling.


So, now I have kept my promise and reviewed the Sills/Bergonzi/Cappucili recording of "Lucia di Lammermoor." I hope you found it helpful and insightful, and I hope you don't think me too presumptuous and snobby.


I remain, as ever, your friend and fellow opera lover,


~R.M.

On Disappointing Dons

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.   

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.  

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.

Tales of a drunk, depressed fantasy author

That's right, kiddies! This week, we're going to learn about one of the greatest French operas in the popular repertoire: Jacques Offenbach's "Les Contes D'Hoffman" or "The Tales of Hoffman."

Offenbach specialized in operettas and wrote very few full-scale operas. Amongst the many famous melodies he wrote, most people recognize the Can-can, the Marine's Hymn ("From the Halls of Montezuma"), and the Barcarolle from "Hoffman." He started writing "Hoffman" in 1877 and died, having finished the vocal and piano score and most of the orchestration, in 1880. Four months later, in February of 1881, "Hoffman" was performed for the public for the first time, the orchestration having been finished by Ernest Guiraud. It was and is considered Offenbach's masterpiece. It concerns E.T.A. Hoffman, who narrates the tales of his three great loves to his friends. In each of these tales, as in reality, his love is stolen or destroyed by an evil genius. After he finishes his stories, he falls over drunk, and his Muse reveals herself to him.

For the purpose of this blog, it's kind of important for me to explain the plot at length-- please pardon-- if you don't want to bother reading it, just skip this paragraph, but I'll warn you, most of the other stuff won't make sense. So here it goes. The opera opens with the Muse and the Spirits of Wine and Beer. The Muse is calling on the Spirits to help her win back Hoffman, who is currently in love with an opera diva named Stella. Next, the Evil Councilor Lindorf is seen buying a letter intended for Hoffman from Stella's servant. Inside is a key to the diva's dressing room and an invitation for Hoffman to come in after the opera. So Lindorf steals the key and then goes to the tavern to make sure Hoffman doesn't make it to the opera. There, Hoffman and his friends are having a good time drinking and talking about each other's girlfriends. However, whenever Hoffman's mistress Stella is mentioned, he sulks. He entertains his companions first with the legend of a dwarf named Kleinzach, and then offers to tell them the stories of his three great loves. The students all clamor to hear, and even Lindorf stops to listen. The first tale Hoffman tells is of Olympia, an automaton made by the scientists Spalanzani and Coppélius. Spalanzani has told everyone that Olympia is his daughter, and Hoffman has posed as a student in order to get closer to Olympia, whom he has seen once in a window and believes is a real girl. Spalanzani holds a great party where Olympia is to make her debut, and Coppélius sneaks in to make a bargain with Spalanzani. Coppélius sells Hoffman a pair of rose-colored glasses that allow him to see Olympia as a real human being. Spalanzani tricks Coppélius out of 500 ducats. The party goes on, and Olympia sings a dazzling aria and impresses all the guests, always with Spalanzani or his servant Cochenille touching her shoulder to rewind her mechanism. All the guests are called to dinner, and Hoffman is asked if he will keep Olympia company. Hoffman is delighted and confesses his love to Olympia. He puts his hand on her shoulder as he talks to her, and all she ever says is "Oui! Oui!" which he takes to be agreement and a confession of her love. But then, he touches her hand, and she gets up and starts running around, he following to find out how he has offended her. Hoffman's best friend Nicklausse comes and tells him what the other guests are saying about Olympia: "That she is dead... Or never was alive!" Hoffman disregards this and finds Olympia again as a waltz begins. He and the doll dance, and as the pace of the waltz grows faster, so do the doll's movements, until she throws Hoffman and his spectacles break. Meanwhile, Coppélius has discovered that he has been swindled and vows revenge. When Olympia exits, Coppélius is waiting in her room and smashes her to pieces. Spalanzani is overwrought with grief, and the guests all laugh at Hoffman for having been in love with a doll. The second tale is of Giulietta, a courtesan. Hoffman shows disinterest and even disdain for her and claims that he will never fall under her spell. Giulietta is offered a beautiful diamond by the wicked Dapertutto in exchange for stealing Hoffman's reflection. Giulietta accepts and soon captures Hoffman in her snare, pleading for him to let her have his reflection, which he agrees to in his delirium. Schlémil, Giulietta's former lover (whose shadow she has also stolen for Dapertutto) is enraged to find her and Hoffman together. Schlémil has the key to Giulietta's room, which Hoffman kills him for in a duel. Then, he discovers that his reflection really has been stolen, and Giulietta and Dapertutto, laughing, abandon him when the authorities are called. Nicklausse drags Hoffman away from the scene. The third and final tale is of Antonia, a dying girl with an angelic voice. Her father Crespel orders her not to sing for fear of aggravating her condition, and tries to tell his deaf servant Frantz not to let anyone in the house. Frantz, of course, misunderstands his master and lets Hoffman in to see Antonia. The couple sing a love duet and discuss their plans to elope the next day. Then, Antonia leaves Hoffman hides as Crespel enters and Frantz announces the arrival of Dr. Miracle. Crespel is enraged and tells Frantz not to let Miracle in, saying that the "doctor" will only kill Antonia as he killed her mother, Crespel's wife. Nevertheless, the doctor enters as if by magic and takes a seat. He calls Antonia and gestures as if seating her, feeling her pulse, etc. and when he asks her to sing, her voice is heard, even though she is not present in the room. Miracle claims he can cure her, but Crespel drives him out. Hoffman leaves his hideout and Antonia re-enters. Hoffman begs her not to sing, and she promises not to. But then, Miracle appears in her room and whispers in her ear, telling her that a woman of her talent and beauty should not be ignored and remain obscure. She should be a diva! She should be applauded and praised! Hoffman only wants her for her beauty, and he will eventually turn to infidelity, says the Doctor. Why should she give up her dreams for that? Antonia tries to ignore the Doctor, because she loves Hoffman so dearly, and kneels, imploring, before her mother's portrait. Miracle haunts the portrait and makes it sing with Antonia's mother's voice. He begins to wildly play a violin and tells Antonia to join her mother's voice with her own. Antonia does so, and when she begins gasping for her last breaths, Miracle disappears and Crespel rushes to his daughter's side. Antonia dies, and Crespel blames Hoffman and tries to kill him, but Nicklausse stops the grieving father. Thus ends the last of Hoffman's tales. Then, the audience sees the same set-up from the first scene: Hoffman and his friends in the tavern. Nicklausse explains that the three women all represented different parts of one woman-- Stella. Olympia is her body, Giulietta is her mind, and Antonia is her soul. Hoffman passes out in a drunken stupor and the crowd leaves. Then, Nicklausse reveals himself to be Hoffman's Muse, who cries, "The man is no more-- be reborn a poet! I love you, Hoffman! Be mine!" Hoffman declares his loves for the Muse, and once again falls unconscious. Stella, who had waited for Hoffman, finds him dead drunk, and Nicklausse tells her that the Councilor has been waiting for her. Stella exits with Lindorf, and the opera ends.

There are a lot of interesting notes and traditions with "Hoffman." The traditions are in regards to the casting: Normally, one bass-baritone will play the four villains (Lindorf, Coppélius, Dapertutto, and Dr. Miracle), one tenor will play Spalanzani, Pitichinaccio (a dwarf in Giulietta's tale) Frantz, and Andrés (one of Hoffman's friends in the tavern), and there are a few other parts that are usually cast as dual roles with Hoffman's buddies Herman and Nathanaël. Also, it used to be a tradition for one soprano to play all four of Hoffman's lovers (Olympia, Giulietta, Antonia, and Stella), but in recent years, the only singers to have done this are Beverly Sills and Joan Sutherland. Productions of this opera can, unfortunately, get very creepy due to its fantastic nature. Also, many times, the order of the tales gets mixed up-- many productions have the story of Antonia before the story of Giulietta. This order makes less sense to me because the loss of Antonia is the most tragic and therefore has the most impact on the audience, and that impact holds over when the story returns to Hoffman and his pals at the Tavern. Also, I feel that it is more effective because it builds up the drama as he moves from one facet of Stella to the next in order of importance: the body, the mind, and last but most importantly, the soul. Sorry if that doesn't quite make sense, but that's just the way I see it. So anyway, this opera is incredible. If possible, you should see it live, because oh my gosh, it is so cool!! The music is absolutely gorgeous. Plot-wise and music-wise, Offenbach never loses me for a moment. He was absolutely brilliant, and this opera really is a masterpiece!

 I ordered this on Amazon for $18.50 (Available as MP3 downloads or physical discs. I got physical discs)and ordered the Sills/Bergonzi/Cappuccilli "Lucia di Lammermoor" for the same price at the same time. I got free shipping! Free shipping makes this Ruthie a very happy Ruthie. Anyway, I love this recording of "Hoffman!"


Beverly Sills, I have discovered, is fabulous! Her voice is so light and clear, her diction is impeccable (compared to Sutherland's, anyway), and her voice isn't muddled or anything. It's wonderful! She's delightfully perky and bereft of true emotion as Olympia, dark, mysterious, and sneaky as Giulietta, and innocent and doleful as Antonia. I love Beverly Sills!


Stuart Burrows isn't half bad in the title role (although I'll confess, Joseph Calléja is my favorite Hoffman), and strangely enough, he kind of looks like the real E.T.A. Hoffman. Burrows expresses a lot of emotion, and his voice is nice and consistent. Kudos to Mr. Burrows!


Norman Treigle is our evil quartet of bass-baritone villains. The guy just looks like a bad@ss, without makeup or costumes or anything. His voice is terrific. He too is very expressive, and so good at being nasty!! Treigle does an absolutely astounding job as each one of Hoffman's arch-rivals. Über-kudos to Norman Treigle!!!


Susanne Marsee is delightful and fun to listen to as Nicklausse/The Muse, and she delivers her spoken lines (she has a spoken monologue at the start of the opera and another at the close) very effectively. She does a great job!


Nico Castel plays Andrés/Spalanzani/Pitichinaccio/Frantz. It's wonderful! He has a lovely set of pipes, and he's very good at acting with his voice. Schlémil/Hermann is played by Raimund Herinx, Nathanaël/Cochenille by Bernard Dickerson, Crespel by Robert Lloyd, and the Voice of Antonia's Mother is sung by Patricia Kern. All are amazing. Such strong, vibrant voices, and all of them expressive! This is a truly perfect cast. Also, Julius Rudel conducted very nicely. I couldn't really hear any kinds of mistakes or places where he should've slowed down or anything. He was spot-on.

This is a very impressive recording, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in trying "Les Contes D'Hoffman." Next week I'll tell you about the new "Lucia di Lammermoor." Until then, I remain


Your friend and fellow opera-lover,


~R.M.