Showing posts with label met opera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label met opera. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ MetOpera: Live in HD: Les Pecheurs de Perles (The Pearl Fishers) at the Gate Cinema


Picture from the Huffington Post
Firstly, it should be said that this is an original production from the English National Opera (ENO) in London. Whilst sitting at the Gate cinema in Notting Hill, I noticed there was barely any mention of it, and although it may have seemed like a brand new revival for New York, it certainly wasn't for London audiences. On top of the so-called novelty was the performance of Bizet's Ceylon romantic opera, which hadn't been staged at the Metropolitan Opera for 100 years. In 1919, Enrico Caruso and Giuseppe De Luca sung as the two best friends who fell in love with the same Hindu priestess (Frieda Hempel), which was, sadly, only performed three times in the run.

Back in my mind I recalled some of my concerns I had about the ENO production I saw in 2014. Director Penny Woolcock, set designer Dick Bird and lightening designer Jen Schriever were here again to regal their 'traditional', silky, smooth Eastern pearl-diving village, with its aquatic, ocean shimmer. The French words, the romantic libretto, and steaming story line of secret lovers hiding behind society - ultimately taboo - is why many opera lovers adore the opera so much. Second to Carmen, Les Pecheurs de Perles is another operatic success composed by Bizet.
The chorus and soloists were dressed in autumn coloured sarongs and saris, and compared to the static London production there was more magnetism and energy from the performers here. Perhaps that was due to the pressures of HD Live: some performers chose to improvise their acting for the camera, for those close up shots.

As a cinema viewer, I was under the powers of Live in HD director, Matthew Diamond and his camera men who were directing my eyes away from any tetchy scene changes going on in the background, which the Met audience were privy to. (There were no laddish conversations going onbackstage like the ENO production. Phew!) Undoubtedly with a larger budget, the Met managed to get 59 Productions to coordinate their projection designs, which, with aeroplane machinery, allowed dancers and acrobats to swim in the air with animated bubbles following their tracks.

Diana Damrau sung as the pure and scared protector of the village Leïla - not allowed to give into temptation. Yet she had already fallen in love with Nadir (Matthew Polenzani) whose best friend, Zurga (Mariusz Kwiecien) was the leader of the town. He too is in love with Leïla. Both Zurga and Nadir promise to make friends and put their fight over Leïla behind them, yet Nadir doesn't abide. 
Picture by Ken Howard
Polenzani sung 'Je crois entrendre encore' with supreme confidence as the starry-eyed Nadir. There's a hopeful, wanderer's quality about his singing, which is, arguably, one of the most memorable parts of the entire production. Damrau's vocals displayed relative ease in the colouratura sections. She gave a convincing performance as the Hindu priestess lost to love's ways, though Damrau seemed to get carried away with too much delicate vibrato; I wasn't sure if she was simply showing off or deliberately singing like this to prove how fragile and naive her character was. With her partner, Polenzani, their voices blended with interesting colouring and phrasing, though, looking back, they didn't seem to make their clandestine relationship look especially romantic. I'd rather give the credit to the Met orchestra, maestro Gianandrea Noseda and Bizet for keeping the theatrical atmosphere sweet and dreamy.

The town is under the control of Zurga, performed by baritone Kwiecien. He's the good guy. He hands out money to the community and considers what is best for their livelihood. Yet, he loses out on the girl of his dreams and loses his best friend's loyalty on the way. Kwiecien's Zurga is like a captain - controlled, calm and subdued. With Polenzani, the best friend's duet is performed with panache and is another sparkling gem in the production. Standing on different ends of the stage, they sing 'Au fond du temple saint' walking slowly, closer and closer together, breaking the social boundaries that once separated them. 
Picture by Sara Krulwich
In the second half of the opera, Kwiecien and Damrau sung emphatically about love, but for different people. The dynamic is entirely different; kindness and innocence has been destroyed.  Zurga no longer respects his best friend for betraying him and he denounces Leïla, condemning both of them to death. With a cigarette, a clean washed shirt and swig of alcohol Kwiecien's Zurga tries to calm himself down, but is riled up by Leïla's presence, begging him to let Nadir live. Back at the Gate Cinema, it's an aggressive and scary sight. Damrau's singing is passionate, while Kwiecien is red in the face; jealous and angered, and, just, about, manages to sing his lines, clearly and fluidly.

In the pit, the Met Orchestra were tremendous, taking fine direction from conductor Noseda. Simultaneously the prelude was tender and powerful . Together they brought out the luscious lyricism of Bizet's gorgeous opera. I find it difficult to comment about the music in detail given that I was depending on the Gate Cinema's speakers. Overall, I can say it gets a thumbs up from me. Let's just hope the Metropolitan Opera doesn't wait another 100 years to show another performance of The Pearl Fishers.

For more information on this production at the Met Opera, please see http://www.metopera.org/Season/2015-16-Season/pecheurs-de-perles-bizet-tickets/ 

Click here to check out full showings and listening at the Picture House, Gate cinema.  

Click here for my review of the ENO's production of The Pearl Fishers, 2014 

Click here for my review of Live in HD production of Berg's Lulu, 2015 at Curzon Cinema, Chelsea

Click here for my review of Live in HD production of Othello, 2015  at Curzon Cinema, Chelsea
 


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Location: London, UK

Sunday, 22 November 2015

Live in HD: Met Opera - Berg's Lulu ★★★★★


“Were it not for those childlike eyes of yours, I should take you for the most cunning whore that ever led a man to ruin.” These are the words Alwa says at the end of Act 2 of Alban Berg's Lulu just as he seduces his father's wife and murderer. Lulu replies, “Would to God that I were.” This is the most clearest way of understanding Marlis Petersen's leading role at the MetOpera's new productin, under the direction by South African visionaire, William Kentridge.

Berg captured the concept of the highly dramatic tale of Lulu - the femme fatale and object of desire - originally written by playwright Frank Wedekind. From child beggar, who is rescued by a doctor, she becomes a model, a stage performer and dies a prostitute. She is also taken prisoner, escapes but is ultimately killed after enrapturing the hearts of many lovers, some who died because of her.

Petersen's Lulu, however, has something indisputably loveable about her. Her innocence (not as innocent as Manon Lescaut though), pity and warmth draw audience’s eyes to her every move. In the outset, her first husband faints in front of her as she models for a painter, yet her childlike reaction and fickle flirtations set the wheels for what can only become a tragic ending. The shock of her true love, Dr. Schön, shoving a gun into her hand whilst frantically forcing her to kill herself and desperate pleas to Jack the Ripper to stay the night, as if she is terrified of being alone, point at the desperation, naivety and vulnerability of a woman that everyone wants. 

Kentridge doesn't commit any stage scandals. Petersen's characterisation leaves out nudity and the power of sex, which is channelled through stark, animated and dynamic video projections instead. This gives audiences more chance to understand Lulu through Petersen's clarity of voice and fearless acting. Pieces of paper with drawn-on images of breasts are glued onto Petersen's costume, offering a subtle suggestion of nakedness where, in the past, productions tended to dress singers performing Lulu in the nude. Even in Act II, as Alwa sings about her flawless body, Alwa hardly lays a finger on her.
Sabine Theunissen's sharp, poised and highly charged projections of cut out dictionary pages with splashes of thick black ink and full body nudes bring the opera to life, providing symbolism and context to this highly perplexing drama. This is Kentridge's second production at the Met, following Shostakovich's The Nose, where his collages create movement and expressions of Lulu's various lovers; there's also omnipresent portraits of the composer as well.

A silent actress is positioned on the edge of the stage. She observes Lulu's actions and glares back and forth at the audience as if she were as much as part of the viewing process as they are. She is a representation of Lulu's inner self; the sensual and playfulness attributed to Lulu through strange postures, such as sticking her legs out of a piano and opening her legs wide, where Petersen doesn't have to.

Watching it at the Curzon cinema, however, there's a sense that cinema audiences where let off, not having to deal with so much happening on the vivacious stage. While the video director, Michael Diamond, offers brevity and focused footage to keep up with real-time action, Met audiences are exposed to a barrage of conceptual visuals that could throw them off; the opera may seem more demanding on the eyes for them. Yet, despite these misgivings, in my years of watching Live in HD screenings of the Met, this is one of the best stage designs I have seen out of New York.
Also the cinema acoustics didn't hinder the splendour and skill of its shinny cast. Johan Reuter exudes the appeal of an intelligent and rich Dr. Schön with the psychotic depth and darkness of Jack the Ripper through his rich bass-baritone voice. As Countess Geschwitz, Susan Graham does an impeccable job singing as the most honest, mislead and misguided lesbian lover of Lulu. Martin Winkler is tough and sturdy as the acrobat and animal tamer while Daniel Brenna sings brilliantly as the subdued and bright-eyed Alwa.

For those listening to Berg for the first time, one has to be prepared of the harshness and roughness of his music, yet the appeal of Lulu is in the lyricism of its libretto which is equally enhanced by superb and distinguished singing.

With the final act completed by Friedrich Cerha, where Berg died before he completed it, it is a challenging opera for directors to stage and musicians to truly understand. This is stressed more with the historical context it was written in and the pulsating intensity of its lead characters.

The Met orchestra are tenacious. Lotha Koenigs conducts the production with skill and wonderment (which James Levine opted out of due to health reasons), as if he knew the score through and through. In those heart-stopping scenes, Lulu's love scene with Dr. Schön and the countess's cry when Lulu is murdered, we hear the slick and versatile stripes of Berg's creative music writing.

It is no surprise that here at the Curzon Cinema, in Chelsea, viewers were cheering on for Petersen at the curtain call. Even though she may not have heard their reaction, it is a clear sign that she deserves the roar of applause after mastering a role, vocally and theatrically, for more than 20 years. She has announced that this was her final show as Lulu, and to that we can only salute her.   

Lulu runs through December 3 at the Metropolitan Opera. Derrick Inouye conducts on November 24, November 28, and December 3. metopera.org.


 

Lulu runs through December 3 at the Metropolitan Opera. Derrick Inouye conducts on November 24, November 28, and December 3. metopera.org. - See more at: http://newyorkclassicalreview.com/2015/11/petersen-finds-humanity-in-the-darkness-of-mets-visually-stunning-lulu/#sthash.Psn2Spef.dpuf
Lulu runs through December 3 at the Metropolitan Opera. Derrick Inouye conducts on November 24, November 28, and December 3. metopera.org. - See more at: http://newyorkclassicalreview.com/2015/11/petersen-finds-humanity-in-the-darkness-of-mets-visually-stunning-lulu/#sthash.Psn2Spef.dpuf
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Sunday, 18 October 2015

Met Opera: Makeup free Otello in a cold and static world ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

This performance was reviewed in Curzon Cinema, Chelsea through the Met's Live in HD series on October 17th.
Antonenko as Otello (Sara Krulwich/The New York Times)
For the Met's Live in HD series Verdi's Otello launched the 2015 season that isn't located in sunny Cyprus, as the original Shakespearean play depicted, but in a dark and colder island not too far from the northern hemisphere. The production is dedicated to the late Jon Vickers who died this year and his past performance of Otello in 1978. It is also an important production of Otello that gives way to the Met's proud denouncement of the blackface tradition. (More on this later)

Producer and director Bartlett Sher has introduced his first tragic production, having directed at the Met since 2006 with Il barbiere di Siviglia, with a stage concept away from the Moor as an outsider but more on the destructive nature of jealousy taking hold of a captain on an isolated and icy island transgressing to the poisonous words of his ensign Iago. The visual details - sombre colours (grey, brown and black) through Catherine Zuber's 19th century costumes, Luke Hall's sea wave moving projections and Es Devlin's glass palace - create a minimalistic staging that leaves much of the work to conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Met orchestra, soloists and Met chorus to draw in the audience and keep Verdi's opera burning bright until the real tragedy stirs in the final act.

Stage designer Devlin incorporates moving neo-classical, translucent, acrylic boxes which are architectural representations of the psychological complexity of the opera's lead characters, according to Sher, and rightly so considering the narrative unfolds through the malicious and conniving actions of Iago. The visual frostiness and lack of transparency illuminates Shakespeare's words, 'I am not what I am' hinting at the veneer that hides Iago's true demeanour. These visual blocks are cleverly coordinated in Act 3 when Iago and Cassio jokes and teases over a woman Otello believes is his wife and, like a maze, Otello meanders behind these opaque structures, avoiding a collision and being caught eavesdropping on their conversation.
(Courtesy of Met Opera photographer)
Yet as much as the narrative's symbolism is there something is largely missing from this production which is the warmth and sense of humanity in the other characters (apart from Ludovico and Emilia) and the overall staging. The only trace of passion is shown through Desdemona (Sonya Yoncheva) and Otello (Aleksandrs Antonenko); arguably this highlights how everyone else, including Iago, are stuck in a chilling and unfeeling world compared to Desdemona and Otello who relish over their love - the only bit of heat that others envy. This hot romance is depicted through Yoncheva and Antonenko who give a convincing picture of a couple in love. In act I, their distinctive performance in the duet leading to "un baccio" (one kiss) leaves a mark in many viewer's memory - a heartrending scene.

Latvian tenor Antonenko, one of the few tenors who can do justice to the role of Otello, opens his eyes wide and give the audience an enraged, suspicious and angry husband. Vocally he sings within his range, ravishing and poised reaching those top notes as he had effortlessly done before in the role which he has held since 2011 at Opera National in Paris, and as much as some operagoers may be used to seeing him with blackface makeup, this custom, that the media has over advertised, is trivialised, not at all significant to the general effect of the opera. The jealousy of Desdemona and Cassio and duplicity of Iago is much more relevant than the idea of Otello as the Moor in this production. Antonenko delivers the sickness of jealously explicitly and also reveals the softer side of Otello at the very end which the audience pities when he realises he was dupped in to killing his wife. The only down side, however, is despite how vocally sophisticated and intense his voice is, Antonenko doesn't have the appeal of a captain and there is no inkling of an outsider which is subscribed to his character - the major downfall and tragedy of Otello.
(Courtesy of Met Opera Photographer)
Attractive Bulgarian soprano Yoncheva is reassuring in her address of Desdemona, completely true to her husband and innocent. Zuber dresses her in a blood red gown and in white in the final act which separates her from the rest of the cast and chorus. Her voice is strong, romantic and adds interesting depth; together with Antonenko they sing gracefully in the love duet. Her forlorn "Willow song" - knowing she is going to die by the hand of her husband - grabs the hearts of the audience. It is undoubtedly moving and sensitive; here at the Curzon Cinema the audience did not move an inch - you could almost hear a pin drop.

 Baritone Željko Lučic looks cool and suave as the evil villain Iago. Lučic gives Otello 'evils', snarls and murmurs when he isn't looking. In a long black leather jacket, he sings powerfully "Credo in un Dio credel" selling the richness of his malcontent and nihilism. Lučic pulls off some vigorous singing in "Sotto Voce" yet remains far removed, and just as cold as every other person on stage excluding the lovers. Exquisite singers; Dimitri Pittas, as Cassio; Günther Groissböck, as Ludovico; and Jennifer Johnson Cano, also deserve their due playing invaluable parts of the stage. Sadly Verdi didn't give them enough Italian words to sing. In spite of the motionless Met Chorus, particularly in the first scene, they were vocally immense as well.

 The Met Orchestra and maestro Nézet-Séguin has a lot to offer through high spirited conducting and the spectrum of temperaments from instilling rage, tenderness and innocence. I can only imagine that if I were at the Met I would have felt the volume and electrifying dynamic movement from the orchestra especially the cellos and the brass chords. The attractiveness of this production really stems from the soloists and the musicians in the pit, yet the stage is, for the most, part, static and drags down the sheer gravitas of Verdi's fascinating opera.
Antonenko and Yoncheva  (Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera via AP)
The "blackface"...
... issue, which has ceased at the Met since the opening night of this production, is a direction that should have taken place decades ago in an ideal world. Last year the ENO also gave the makeup-free role of Otello to Australian tenor Stuart Skelton which signified the ENO's break from tradition. Theatreland abandoned the need for a white actor to makeup their face to play the Moor a long time ago but, then, why did it take opera more time to catch up? 

The tradition has existed since José Cura sung the role in the 1891 Met production and in that time Patrick Stewart had played the lead role in a "photo negative" theatrical performance without makeup and an all-black cast as the Venetians.  Theatre world has been much more experimental with Shakespeare's version of Othello; in this summer's RSC production Iago and Othello were casted by Lucian Msamati and Hugh Quarshie - both black actors. 

Having read Washington Post's summary of interviews with opera singers 'of colour' (Kenneth Kellogg, Soloman Howard, Russell Thomas, Alyson Cambridge, and Deborah Nansteel), who find no offence committed in putting dark makeup on tenors' faces, I have a question mark over their comparison between Otello and Madama Butterfly who, as a geisha, is covered with white makeup. There's a clear difference in that Geishas - Japanese or non-Japanese - are covered in white makeup irrespective of their ethnicity. The character of Otello on the other hand is segregated for his difference of colour in the Shakespearean play which is a trope of Otello which librettist Arrigo Boito and Verdi deliberately transferred to the opera.

However there are other forms of isolation and segregation that can be shown on stage without the need to reference the difference of skin tone. Theatre directors have the grim, challenging and, arguably, fun task of deciding how they stage a production of Othello yet this sense of liberty and artistic license is limited in opera. Why is that? Because it's opera and it requires a first class singer to nail the role of Otello. In fact, the roles of Otello, Iago and Desdemona are among the few of Verdi's most demanding and vocally dramatic roles he had written. Antonenko, as I stated above, is one of the few in the market qualified and vocally suited to the role of Otello. This is demonstrated through his vocal prowess which overshadows the lack of a blackface in this Met production, but then, this leads onto another cloud of problems - the limited scope of singers trained to sing certain roles.

Russell Thomas, in the Washington Post interview, raises the point about opera houses not picking singers within their "locality" and choosing talent from elsewhere e.g. abroad. The removal of a blackfaced Otello underlines other issues in opera where this old art form has only just got rid of an archaic custom and, now, opened a discussion over the competition amongst opera singers all over the country, and the world, for leading roles in opera repertory.

The Met's decision to denounce the blackfaced Otello is just the tip of the iceberg. Directors may simply decide to get rid of a few lines referencing the Moor's coloured skin from Boito's libretto (which would be a huge mistake) or perhaps decide to cast a black tenor to sing Otello - it's been done before. One example is the first black tenor to sing the role of Otello in the UK (Ronald Samm) in the Birmingham Opera Company's 2009 production. Either way, the Met's decision has brought attention to the massive competition amongst opera singers and the decisions casting directors have to make for demanding roles.

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