Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Lordy Lordy Someone's Five Times Forty!
I just cannot see how this could be performed more beautifully so it is my Wagner Birthday Post.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Lontano, lontano, lontano
Coming this fall and beyond: Maury blogs the San Francisco Opera.
Perhaps to dead silence, as I doubt anyone knows this is here anymore. I think my last review was of Jenny Lind.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Monday, March 05, 2012
A Debut Worth Talking About
Some time before the earth cooled, I remember a conversation with Dawn Fatale in which I mentioned I was going to hear Aida because a mezzo who was rumored to tear the place up was singing Amneris. Wise as the Norns, Dawn said to me only a little wearily "I'd really like to stop going to Aida to hear the Amneris."
Perhaps he need not anymore. Since that conversation, the Met has mounted Aida exactly seven thousand times, with stars (in my experience) ranging from competent to quite good, without ever finding someone excitingly well-matched to the role. Latonia Moore, in for an indisposed Violeta Urmana, made a debut this afternoon I feel I will endure only moderate hounding from the golden-age bitterati for calling exciting and maybe even important.
Ms. Moore is not unknown in these parts. It was only a couple of years ago that she turned in a very glamorous reading of Hortense or whatever the heroine of Edgar is called with OONY, also then in the company of Marcello Giordani. Still, she isn't a marquee name, if that exists in opera, and it seems fair to guess from a gracious shout-out on Sondra Radvanovsky's facebook feed that the Met would have liked the Radvan to hang around for the broadcast.
She didn't, and the Met went with the actual cover, with extremely satisfying results. Ms. Moore showed signs of nervousness, of course--here a phrase got away from her, there a portamento seemed intended but didn't quite happen. The overall impression, however, was one of a highly qualified Aida. Vigorously mark off on the checklist: radiant tone, a Met-sized voice, and most importantly, deeply musical phrasing and her own distinctive vocal stamp on the role. Moore, through instinct or study--I can't know, has a fine understanding of that elusive shape that makes a Verdi phrase ring true, and she largely has the goods to back it up.
In the interest of full disclosure, I don't know how the biggest moment went--during "O Patria Mia" there was some sort of distressing medical emergency in Family Circle. (And here we salute the staff of the Met who somehow took care of it without bringing the performance to a stop.) I can say, however, that "Ritorna vicintor" was fully realized, with all the thrust that heaves utterances like "struggete!" across the footlights and to the back of the house, and tenderness and regret where you'd want them.
The Act II showdown found her holding her own against Stephanie Blythe, which should tell you plenty (if I were Aida and heard Stephanie Blythe call me "vil schiava" I would just go right ahead and bury myself because it's pretty clear who's going to end up getting crammed up a Sphinx's ass.) In the triumphal scene she stood out well from the chorus, and in the tomb scene, she sang with delicacy and poise.
Moore makes differentiated and appropriate use of chest tones, which I know is of great concern to many, and sprinkles her phrases judiciously with hints of glottal attack. With experience I think she will dispense with some vagueness that haunts a certain small range in the middle of the voice. She has a run of Aidas coming up in Dallas this fall. Meanwhile, she was rapturously received at the Metropolitan.
And what of the Amneris? Blythe is an event in her own right, undeniably a house institution. Sometimes I've understood this--she was every ounce the poet in Gluck's Orfeo and an elemental presence as Jezibaba in Rusalka--other times, less so. Amneris is not a contralto role, per se, but it received a contralto reading here, with mixed results. Even from Zajick I never heard such belting, and it's certainly a thrill, but after four acts, it began to feel like vulgarity, and not the best kind.
The Act II smackdown was quite thrilling, but came on the heels of the least seductive reading "Ah, vieni, amor mio" I can recall. It's not that the top was an effort. High notes aren't everything, and in fact she dutifully produced every last one of them. It just felt like a peculiar choice for Blythe, obviously a very valuable artist in the company's roster, at this stage of her career. Let's have more Frickas and the like, things she's currently peerless in, and maybe leave off with this kind of thing.
[Perhaps it is worth noting briefly that Blythe apparently makes a hilarious "back the fuck off" face when Aida holds up a decoration to be presented to Radames, I am told. There was a ripple of laughter, though I could see nothing from the fringe of standing room.]
Marcello Giordani was at his best and his worst, by turns. The Nile Scene found him alternating between the kind of singing you feel you can almost physically sink your teeth into and leather-lunged shouting (which is hardly the worst thing from an Italian tenor, but Giordani can and frequently does do better). Celeste Aida mostly worked; the final duet had more than it needed of strangled soft notes. Probably the less said about the rest of the gentlemen in the cast, the better.
Perhaps he need not anymore. Since that conversation, the Met has mounted Aida exactly seven thousand times, with stars (in my experience) ranging from competent to quite good, without ever finding someone excitingly well-matched to the role. Latonia Moore, in for an indisposed Violeta Urmana, made a debut this afternoon I feel I will endure only moderate hounding from the golden-age bitterati for calling exciting and maybe even important.
Ms. Moore is not unknown in these parts. It was only a couple of years ago that she turned in a very glamorous reading of Hortense or whatever the heroine of Edgar is called with OONY, also then in the company of Marcello Giordani. Still, she isn't a marquee name, if that exists in opera, and it seems fair to guess from a gracious shout-out on Sondra Radvanovsky's facebook feed that the Met would have liked the Radvan to hang around for the broadcast.
She didn't, and the Met went with the actual cover, with extremely satisfying results. Ms. Moore showed signs of nervousness, of course--here a phrase got away from her, there a portamento seemed intended but didn't quite happen. The overall impression, however, was one of a highly qualified Aida. Vigorously mark off on the checklist: radiant tone, a Met-sized voice, and most importantly, deeply musical phrasing and her own distinctive vocal stamp on the role. Moore, through instinct or study--I can't know, has a fine understanding of that elusive shape that makes a Verdi phrase ring true, and she largely has the goods to back it up.
In the interest of full disclosure, I don't know how the biggest moment went--during "O Patria Mia" there was some sort of distressing medical emergency in Family Circle. (And here we salute the staff of the Met who somehow took care of it without bringing the performance to a stop.) I can say, however, that "Ritorna vicintor" was fully realized, with all the thrust that heaves utterances like "struggete!" across the footlights and to the back of the house, and tenderness and regret where you'd want them.
The Act II showdown found her holding her own against Stephanie Blythe, which should tell you plenty (if I were Aida and heard Stephanie Blythe call me "vil schiava" I would just go right ahead and bury myself because it's pretty clear who's going to end up getting crammed up a Sphinx's ass.) In the triumphal scene she stood out well from the chorus, and in the tomb scene, she sang with delicacy and poise.
Moore makes differentiated and appropriate use of chest tones, which I know is of great concern to many, and sprinkles her phrases judiciously with hints of glottal attack. With experience I think she will dispense with some vagueness that haunts a certain small range in the middle of the voice. She has a run of Aidas coming up in Dallas this fall. Meanwhile, she was rapturously received at the Metropolitan.
And what of the Amneris? Blythe is an event in her own right, undeniably a house institution. Sometimes I've understood this--she was every ounce the poet in Gluck's Orfeo and an elemental presence as Jezibaba in Rusalka--other times, less so. Amneris is not a contralto role, per se, but it received a contralto reading here, with mixed results. Even from Zajick I never heard such belting, and it's certainly a thrill, but after four acts, it began to feel like vulgarity, and not the best kind.
The Act II smackdown was quite thrilling, but came on the heels of the least seductive reading "Ah, vieni, amor mio" I can recall. It's not that the top was an effort. High notes aren't everything, and in fact she dutifully produced every last one of them. It just felt like a peculiar choice for Blythe, obviously a very valuable artist in the company's roster, at this stage of her career. Let's have more Frickas and the like, things she's currently peerless in, and maybe leave off with this kind of thing.
[Perhaps it is worth noting briefly that Blythe apparently makes a hilarious "back the fuck off" face when Aida holds up a decoration to be presented to Radames, I am told. There was a ripple of laughter, though I could see nothing from the fringe of standing room.]
Marcello Giordani was at his best and his worst, by turns. The Nile Scene found him alternating between the kind of singing you feel you can almost physically sink your teeth into and leather-lunged shouting (which is hardly the worst thing from an Italian tenor, but Giordani can and frequently does do better). Celeste Aida mostly worked; the final duet had more than it needed of strangled soft notes. Probably the less said about the rest of the gentlemen in the cast, the better.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Oh hey thanks
Grnkh, I totally meant to do a Thanksgiving post this year, and then forgot to think of anything to write about. I am thankful that Anna Netrebko is moving into repertory she's going to kill in, but that's sort of boring, and anyway recitations of gratitude are a little numbing.
Oh, a youtube link. That's just the thing. Because actually the door is on the way to being walked out of by us, so...what would be good? Maybe a nice Sena Jurinac clip in memoriam. I'll post something I didn't associate with her, something I've never heard, in hopes it's new to you, too. Something a bit mournful? Here we go.
Well shit, that is just a snippet. I am not thankful for that. Here's something else, but in the interest of the door being got out of, I'm just going with Mozart, in which she was beloved. (I knew her first from the recitless Figaro from Vienna. Some people can't stand that it's been filet'd, but I'll always love it.) Here she is, having moved up in social rank. There's a delicacy in the first bars that's quite heartbreaking, but anyway, listen for yourself of course.
Happy holidays, if these are your holidays.
Oh, a youtube link. That's just the thing. Because actually the door is on the way to being walked out of by us, so...what would be good? Maybe a nice Sena Jurinac clip in memoriam. I'll post something I didn't associate with her, something I've never heard, in hopes it's new to you, too. Something a bit mournful? Here we go.
Well shit, that is just a snippet. I am not thankful for that. Here's something else, but in the interest of the door being got out of, I'm just going with Mozart, in which she was beloved. (I knew her first from the recitless Figaro from Vienna. Some people can't stand that it's been filet'd, but I'll always love it.) Here she is, having moved up in social rank. There's a delicacy in the first bars that's quite heartbreaking, but anyway, listen for yourself of course.
Happy holidays, if these are your holidays.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Oh, brother
The story at Parterre, though this is of course an ongoing thing.
I can't help but mock this. Changing the text, as I've argued*, is a very different thing from reimagining the work through radical restagings, and Not Okay. I mean it's fine...it doesn't actually hurt anyone, least of all dead authors and composers, but I think it's, eh, dumb.
Somehow it's particularly galling when the driving impulse is to indulgently correct for the political consciousness of people from another time. I know I sound like a hypocrite if you're anti-regie, but I still believe this is not what most haute regie productions do.
But maybe I understand the indignance of traditionalists better now. Like them, I want to ask "what next?" Antipsychotics for Wozzeck and marriage counseling with Marie? (This is a good example, in fact, because Wozzeck documents things about mental illness in a way nobody would mistake for some kind of approval of their treatment in the past the way Diane Paulus seems to think Porgy's creators knowingly or unknowingly did. And even this sidesteps the question of whether viewing something makes us complicit in oh never mind this is too far off track
Oh, how about a new final scene for Aida in which Radames posts "ZOMG am under HUMUNGOLOID rock" on fb** from his iPhone and his friends show up and there's a big final chorus about teamwork? Or like Dr. Grenvil is like "gurl, you just need some Cipro!" and it's kind of an important public service message about getting proper medical care etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc.
*yeah, I know, this makes it sound like I've written it up in scholarly journals...
**faraonebook
ETA: Orlando Furioso puts it succinctly and well:
I can't help but mock this. Changing the text, as I've argued*, is a very different thing from reimagining the work through radical restagings, and Not Okay. I mean it's fine...it doesn't actually hurt anyone, least of all dead authors and composers, but I think it's, eh, dumb.
Somehow it's particularly galling when the driving impulse is to indulgently correct for the political consciousness of people from another time. I know I sound like a hypocrite if you're anti-regie, but I still believe this is not what most haute regie productions do.
But maybe I understand the indignance of traditionalists better now. Like them, I want to ask "what next?" Antipsychotics for Wozzeck and marriage counseling with Marie? (This is a good example, in fact, because Wozzeck documents things about mental illness in a way nobody would mistake for some kind of approval of their treatment in the past the way Diane Paulus seems to think Porgy's creators knowingly or unknowingly did. And even this sidesteps the question of whether viewing something makes us complicit in oh never mind this is too far off track
Oh, how about a new final scene for Aida in which Radames posts "ZOMG am under HUMUNGOLOID rock" on fb** from his iPhone and his friends show up and there's a big final chorus about teamwork? Or like Dr. Grenvil is like "gurl, you just need some Cipro!" and it's kind of an important public service message about getting proper medical care etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc.
*yeah, I know, this makes it sound like I've written it up in scholarly journals...
**faraonebook
ETA: Orlando Furioso puts it succinctly and well:
If one finds it problematic, leave it unperformed. If one finds it powerful-but-flawed… well, live with the imperfections and enjoy the rest, as we do with so many good-but-flawed works.
But don’t create a new work, built on your favorite bits of what the original authors did, and then forge their names to the result.
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