Opera Hong Kong's eerily contemporary Salome

Grand Theatre, Hong Kong Cultural Centre
Friday 10th October 2014

Warren Mok, Artistic Director of Opera Hong Kong and producer of Richard Strauss’ Salome, has once again succeeded in staging opera with a discerning eye to an increasingly enthusiastic and opera-informed local audience. In a co-production with the Slovenian National Theatre Opera and Ballet, director Andrejs Zagars paints Salome as a modern, crazed and tragic figure in a cool, barren world that epitomises her disconnection from human warmth. Visually distant from its biblical origins this Salome feels eerily contemporary.

Kirsten Chambers as Salome and Daniel Sumegi as Jocahanaan

Set designer Reinis Suhanovs' stage depicted a minimalistic prismatic room, its rear wall featuring a large rectangular opening (set back to allow stage entry) with a view towards a shifting night sky and a full moon. The spatial grandeur yet soulless quality to the space perfectly characterised Salome herself. As the momentum built, so too did the complexity of the visual drama, the hard walls enhanced by Kevin Wyn-Jones' lighting design and Ineta Sipunova's video projections which combined to create a world of sumptuous ever-changing geometric-floral patterns evoking a softened Middle-Eastern feel. The only disappointment was the flat, direct access from forward stage right to the cell from which Jochanaan was thrusted undramatically. It's a small quibble.

The openness of the set on the Grand Theatre's expansive stage provided ample opportunity for movement and Zagars provided dramatic flair with skilful blocking for the central characters but some clumsy moments on peripheral action slipped into the mix, namely at the scene of Narraboth's suicide where the guards reacted with an odd unknowing what to do, for far too long. 

The German libretto by Strauss is based on Hedwig Lachmann’s translation of Oscar Wilde's play, written in French, telling a story incorporating the murderous and erotic within a biblical context. In Zagars’ interpretation there's an initial feeling of awkwardness in trying to reconcile the biblical characters and narrative with the modern, presumably Middle-Eastern transposition, but before long names felt unimportant and it less and less resembled biblical story telling. That said, it did present its problems. While not trying to present a history lesson, it does raise the issue of the relevance of a updating a story to a libretto that clearly is mismatched to the period. 

Salome shocked audiences at the opera's 1905 Dresden premiere and was initially ignored and banned by many opera houses, and although the opera has settled into the repertoire, it is often still the subject of seismic shifts. In a 2002 Canadian Opera Company production, Salome was raped by the five Jews in an updated production (which of course incensed some) and she has also been raped by the soldiers in others. This production does not shock aimlessly. Salome's famous “Dance of the Seven Veils” (it wasn't clear, however, what the seven veils referred to) was danced dutifully erotically to give the feeling Salome was pre-punishing Herod via her mocking flirtatiousness. With the exception of a token blink-and-you'll-miss-it revealing of a single breast, just as Salome leaves the stage, nudity was passed up. Herodes followed Salome off-stage then adjusted his zipper on his return, suggesting he got what he'd wanted, presumably allowing Salome to get what she wanted too.

Peter Bronders as Herodes and Kirsten Chambers as Salome

Similarly, when  Salome danced about with Jochanaan's head, we simply saw what could have been a melon covered in a clump of bedraggled hair. But the shock was delivered when (not so much by the kiss) the plainly mad Salome placed the head between her knees as she writhed on the floor. It was certainly enough for me to understand (not endorse) Herodes' reaction when he ordered his guards to kill his step-daughter and perhaps find some peace in his superstitious thoughts.

Kristine Pasternaka's costume designs gave clarity and punchy character to her cast. On a stage protected by black-uniformed guards, Salome made her entrance in a purely pink glittering pantsuit and thigh-length 'poodle' jacket, wearing the colour pink with power. Salome underwent two other changes, both in revealing black chiffon. Herodes was portrayed in a dinner suit and satin gown. Herodias towered over and dominated her husband on bold heels and two changes of costumes of quirkily grotesque elegance and Jochanaan made his appearance in a straight-jacket, later in prison attire, to reveal the man he was forced to become.

The principal soloists indeed added ample life to their costumes to deliver convincingly powerful performances. Kirsten Chambers seemed to give everything she lived for to Salome. Her debut in the role was praiseworthy. In this hugely demanding role Chambers never appeared to tire. On the contrary, the depth of her performance grew wildly as she exhibited the fitness of an athlete. In her voice’s lowest range, however, her struggle to shape volume and beauty was apparent but the dramatic colour exhibited throughout her middle range and the defined delicacy of her high notes easily won the audience over to Chambers' Goliath effort.

Entering in sunglasses and seemingly forever holding a wineglass, Jacqueline Dark as Herodias wasn't going to spill a drop and she mimicked much the same agility in her fiercely solid vocal confidence and dramatic portrayal of the ruthless and manipulative woman behind her lecherous husband, Herodes. Peter Bronders’ Herodes was also both pitiful and pathetic. With a strangely endearing whining-like vocal quality and characterful performance, Bronders' added much to the drama, drawn from his wealth of experience in Wagnerian roles.

Jacqueline Dark as Herodias and Peter Bronders as Herodes

Daniel Sumegi pounded the stage with a performance that shook with thunderous impact. Much of Jochanaan's boisterous prophesizing happened from off-stage but sadly the sound distortion created by electronic intervention gave his voice an uneasy, thin, metallic sound. Sumegi's power to project and largesse of vocal expression would seem more than enough to have warranted a more natural rendering.

For the short period before his on-stage almost unnoticed suicide, Jason Wickson gave a merited performance as Narraboth. In the smaller roles I also especially liked the almost comedic-acted discourse and vocal harmony enacted by the five Jews, Alex Tam, Frankie Liu, Christopher Leung, Chen Yong and Apollo Wong.

Musically, conductor John Neschling let the breadth of Strauss' score shine with the brilliance it was notated as, the tempi always feeling conducive to the action. Perhaps the pit was responsible for swallowing some of the character in the music but Neschling may have, however, been able to do even more to extract larger volumes from the sizeable Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra when it was needed and to develop greater contouring of the sound.

The balance between administering shock and presenting powerful drama enticingly with an indefatigably talented cast has gifted audiences in Hong Kong with another operatic highlight. However, it also raises prickly issues and opens that can of worms when working with historical updates/original libretti. 


Photographs courtesy of Opera Hong Kong

A Link to Published Works

My journey to reviewing opera started in May this year when Opera Australia posted an article on their Twitter feed, "Do you have what it takes to be a critic?". Although I had never written a review, it seemed a prefect opportunity to start expressing myself in a way I haven't before and sharing my thoughts about and experiences with opera. After submitting two reviews (Don Carlos and Wozzeck, blogged here) I became the successful candidate for Opera Australia's Melbourne season and the start was immediate. In the 6 months since, I have published 20 reviews and 2 previews across 4 websites and several reviews have been written here in my blog. It's a most enjoyable and rewarding outcome doing something I least expected but related to a part of my life where passion exists. Here are the links to my work to date:

http://www.theoperablog.com/?s=paul+selar

http://bachtrack.com/22/270/list-published/16321

http://aussietheatre.com.au/author/paul-selar

http://www.stageandcinema.com/author/paul-selar/

TURANDOT
Palau Des Les Arts Reina Sofia
Valencia
13th June 2014


Even before the performance was underway in the cavernous main hall of the Palau de Les Arts, a standing ovation greeted conductor, Zubin Mehta, who responded with a big, powerful and distinctive sound in opening Giacomo Puccini's last opera, Turandot. Then, when the curtain was raised to reveal the majestic force of Chinese director, Chen Kaige's shimmering blockbuster production, which first premiered in the same venue back in 2008, it was clear the performance ahead would be a treat to the senses.

The music of Puccini's three-act opera is not big enough to veil the lunacy of the plot and the lack of character development it suffers, but it is big enough to inspire stunning entertainment. Dare I say, Kaige's direct approach and cautionary filmmaker's eye combined to create a production that could just as easily park itself on Broadway. Liu King's intricate sets depicting an ancient Chinese imperial complex, designed and built in China, beautifully enhanced everything from solo performance to large ensemble. The visual splendour continued with a glistening stage floor, exquisitely coloured and embroidered costumes by Chen Tong Xun and lighting that illuminated the stage with dramatic precision by Albert Faura.

On the downside, a few rather cheesy moments made the proximity to Broadway that much closer. A languid Mexican wave (unless it originated in ancient China) and a parasol-armed chorus of loyal subjects converging into a clustered formation seemed to express an uncertainty of not knowing how to keep a large chorus occupied. Also, the drama was diminished by a tendency for the performers to face the audience rather more frequently than they did to each other. But this is a fairy-tale after all and Kaige's filmmaking expertise (Farewell My Concubine) presented it as such, more than I’ve seen before.

And what an odd tale Turandot is! Love at first sight is taken to the extreme when an unknown stranger falls for an icy princess who vowed never to marry unless a noble suitor can solve three riddles. Of course, the riddles are too difficult to solve but they don't prevent noble fools trying, even if failure leads to beheading. Then along comes an unknown stranger (if you're dressed like a nobleman, you must be one) and upsets the princess by solving all three of them. Now why would a man force himself on a woman who clearly isn't interested, worse, faces death by trying? Being a tale, it might be forgiven for its irreconcilable plot, so if it wasn't for Puccini's rich, dramatic and emotional score brimming with tender arias, fearsome duets and surging choral music, the story might very well fall flat in the theatre. In saying that, I imagine Carlo Gozzi's 1762 play, Turandot, on which Puccini based his opera, is unlikely ever to see a stage again.

Puccini's subject matter was surprising, given the success of his verismo operas; La Bohème (1896), Tosca (1900), La Fanciulla del West (1910), La Rondine (1917). And of course, he had already delved into the Far East with Madama Butterfly (1904). Puccini died in 1924 without completing the final act but had left detailed sketches, which were entrusted to Franco Alfonso and the opera premiered in 1926 at Milan's Teatro alla Scala.

Heading back to the performance, after an impressive lead, it was the subtlety of sound that Mehta needed to establish in a theatre which amplifies the sound miraculously but unforgivingly. Initially, a divide seemed to exist between stage and pit but by midway through Act I Mehta harnessed the two. Elevating Turnadot's music to a level rarely heard, it was as if Mehta was able to give each of the hard-working, focused musicians of the Orquestra de la Comunitat Valenciana their chance to be heard in absolute glory.

Lise Lindstrom, rendered Princess Turandot with combined ruthlessness and grace, much to Kaige’s intentions, giving Turandot a great sense of approachability and humanity. Lindstrom's engaging soprano voice exhibited dramatic strength and colour, both sweetly edged and full of rich resonance in the lower range. In Turandot's extended Act II aria, "In questo reggia", and subsequent duet with Calaf (the unknown stranger), Lindstrom excelled, slicing the air with penetrating beauty and delivering a knife-edge chill before exposing Turandot's vulnerability after Calaf solves the three riddles.

Jorge de León expressed Calaf's determination to win Turandot's heart in fine, confident form. Already impressive in Act I, de Leon opened up in the second act to reveal a voice funnelling a warm viscosity and an emotion-filled, warbling, high, throaty tenor. De Leon was equally at ease in the duets he shared with Turandot and the slave-girl, Liu, as he was in his solos. The pressure of Act III's (everyone knows) "Nessun dorma" was beautifully delivered with clear, measured phrasing, expressing Calaf's contemplations with real pathos after which the hall erupted with a roar belonging in a football stadium.

Portraying Liu, young soprano, Jessica Nuccio catapulted herself into the role firmly before her Act I aria, "Signor ascolta" was over, at much the same time Mehta did in settling the orchestra. Nuccio's clean phrasing and delicate tone impressed, and a quivering vibrato preceding her public suicide in "Tu che di gel sei cinta" was heartfelt and masterly.

Timur, the deposed King of Tartary, and Calaf's long lost father, was convincingly carried off by Alexánder Tsymbalyuk in a broad pleasing, almost feathery bass voice. Lighter entertainment was provided by the trio of palace ministers, Ping, Pang and Pong, each respectively performed by Germán Olvera, Valentino Buzza and Pablo Garcia López. In their lengthy and demanding Act II scene, mocking the endless imperial rituals and longing for their homes in the idyllic countryside, the trio effortlessly sang and danced their reflections in expert showbiz style.

Each of Turnadot's three acts end in much the same way, utilising huge boisterous brass and percussive strength to energise a large chorus, easily maximising the spectacle. Here, the Cor de la Generalitat Valencia reached explosive proportion and maintained clarity while being equally mesmerising during the score's soft musical hues.

The opera's final scene ends hastily as Turandot's icy cloak melts and she names Calaf, "Love". For me it doesn't quite work and I wonder if it would've for Puccini if he had completed or revised the score himself. It especially looked at odds as Turandot and Calaf strangely rushed off the stage in, presumably, blissful escape, but it looked more like an eagerness to get off the stage and out of their costumes. It also didn't seem to dignify the splendid chorus in their most magnificent moment singing in thunderous force, "O sole! Vita! Eternita".

I thought about the many operas (some I'm not even aware of) that have fallen out of fashion and vice versa over the last few centuries. Will Turandot's appeal fade? Will it disappear from the repertoire of popular operas it currently sits amongst? Or will its muscular music keep alive a far-fetched tale? In all the productions of Turandot I've seen, there has never been an attempt to redeploy the story outside its ancient Chinese setting and now, after seeing an impressively glittering staging, I wonder if it can be engineered with a radically new approach.

IL BARBIERE DI SIVIGLIA
Bayerische Staatsoper, Munich
Saturday 7th June 2014

The current Bayerische Staatsoper production of Rossini's 1816 opera buffa, Il Barbiere di Siviglia was first premiered way back in 1989. It raises a dilemma. The opera's popularity alone might draw existing and new audiences but bring in a star performer the likes of tenor, Juan Diego Flórez and it virtually guarantees a full house. From director, Ferruccio Soleri, there’s a real sense of complacency, however, and despite being plump full of expert vocal and dramatic performances it's surprising this lacklustre Il Barbiere di Siviglia has survived more than two decades.

Carlo Tommasi’s sets create a sense of 18th Century Southern Spanish realism but they’re clunky and lack thought. While may needing to seem impenetrable to protect Rosina, his ward, the Act I set for the exterior of Doctor Bartolo’s house is obtrusive and limits the scene’s action. Act II’s interior set of the house is vacant, with confused access points ill-suited to streamlined story telling and feels more like the hollowness of an empty old timber hall. Ute Frühling's period costumes, which creatively define each of the soloists and warm lighting, provide at least some salvation. But most annoyingly, is the creaking, thumping sound of the timber floors of the revolving stage when the cast make the slightest move. What's worse, there seems a point in emphasising it. How could this have escaped the director’s, or for that matter, anyone’s ears?

Conductor, Antonello Allemandi, led Rossini's overture in a blend of delightfully warm exchanges between the different sections of the orchestra, then maintained tight control to exact freshness and brightness. A tendency, however, to drag the tempo too far down than usual on the slower, more tender scenes, slightly hindered a balanced cohesiveness between poignancy and comedy.

Figaro, the wheeling-dealing scheming barber, ever ready to help carry the plot forward (for a price) is rendered with swaggering, cheerful confidence by Rodion Pogossov. Of course, everyone eagerly awaits Figaro's entrance aria, "Largo al factotum", and Pogossov obliged with vigour, adding his own colourful, baritone signature with a warm, rolling legato. Not so impressive, however, is Figaro's all-important prop, in the form of a disappointing, meagre offering of barber's paraphernalia in a leather wallet.

Kate Lindsey, as Rosina, ward of Doctor Bartolo and, just like everyone else, able to outsmart him, displays immediate self-assuredness in Rosina’s opening aria, “Una voce poco fà”, continuing with vitality and stunning vocal beauty. Ricocheting from one zany episode to the next, Lindsay also concocts an effusive chemistry with her surrounding cast.

The fast-paced pitter-patter of Doctor Bartolo, played by Renato Girolami couldn't be better enjoyed. Together with his accomplice Don Basilio, depicted solidly by Peter Rose, and Bartolo’s sneezing maid, Berta, rendered in squeaky delight by Hanna-Elizabeth Müller, the requisite spice is added to deliver a rollicking show of animated entertainment and adept vocal force.

But it was Juan Diego Flórez who everyone came to see, portraying Count Almaviva, as well as the disguises of a soldier and a music teacher, two of Figaro’s bright ideas to help get the Count into Doctor Bartolo’s house to see Rosina. Flórez starts with an easy, careful pace, notches it up, then in astounding form delivers the almost ten-minute Act II aria not often performed, "Cessa di più resistere", to wild, extended applause. I saw Flórez sing the role in Los Angeles in 2009 and Milan in 2010. As in the previous two, his performance was arresting, holding the troops at bay, but this time suddenly letting all the production's faults disappear for this interlude as the entire cast and chorus stood completely still so as not to upset the groaning stage. Finally, everyone on stage seemed to get it. And together with a steadfast, fine-voiced chorus of soldiers and musicians, the winning cast of characters give some polish to the night.

In the end it all goes horribly wrong (as it has for this production) for old Doctor Bartolo, who arrives just a moment too late to marry his ward, Rosina, instead finding her married to the Count. So, apart from the synergetic charm exuded by the cast and the enduring, catchy tunes courtesy of Rossini, it’s time to dismantle the pieces of this tiresome, dusty construct and find new form.

BENVENUTO CELLINI: ENO
London Coliseum
Premiere: Thursday 5th June, 2014

"I need a drink!", I hear uttered after the curtain closes on Act I of ENO's spectacular new production of Hector Berlioz's Benvenuto Cellini. "Perfect idea, but is one enough?", I say, feeling the need to celebrate this night of circus-infused entertainment and a production that truly embraces an audience. It's one of the most expensive undertakings ever by ENO despite the opera rarely being performed these days. Premiering in Paris in 1838, Benvenuto Cellini is a two-act semi-séria opera but more wildly demi-semi-séria from director, Terry Gilliam's exuberant handling.

Of Berlioz, Gilliam says "...he's crazy, flawed, exciting and he breaks the rules", a statement which easily describes much about this production too. First, it's gigantic. Set designs by Gilliam himself and Aaron Marsden move about and consume the entire stage, depicting a story set in 16th Century Rome with a visual collage of stylized period form, etched and printed surfaces, bold projections and a few 20th Century utilities. With the addition of elaborate and wacky period costumes by Katrina Lindsay and dynamic, cinematic-like lighting by Paule Constable, it's altogether a visual wonder.

There's unstoppable momentum as Act I reaches the 'Carnivale' climax, a scene rendering something far more than theatrical make believe. A giant street party does a twisted turn seemingly via Rome itself, jamming the aisles of the Coliseum stalls. A giant skull looms into the audience metres away from my seat, a reveller beats his drum alongside me and it's impossible not to be swept up in the sensational pandemonium. Might all this be a little too excessive? Just enjoy the ride, and let it all hover about and soak its way in.

By this stage, our eponymous Benvenuto Cellini (Michael Spyres), esteemed Florentine Renaissance goldsmith, sculptor and rogue, has escaped from the riotous festivities after having killed Pompeo (Morgan Pierce), friend of Fieramosca (Nicholas Pallesen), Roman sculptor and betrothed to Teresa (Corinne Winters). It's all over Cellini's attempts to elope with Teresa, daughter of Balducci (Pavlo Hunka), the Papal Treasurer upset that Pope Clement VII (Willard White) has commissioned a bronze statue of Perseus from Cellini instead of his intended son-in-law. With Cellini's business manager (Paula Murrihy), the innkeeper (Anton Rich) and Cellini's foremen, Francesco (Nicky Spence) and Bernadino (David Soar), there's plenty of fuel for a little confusion. It all unfolds in a swift, witty English translation by Charles Hart of Leon de Wailly's and Auguste Barbier's original French libretto.

After that drink and dazzlement, Act II settles, the energy is still aflame but the plot begins to reemerge with greater lucidity. Curiously, it seems any director's invention is unlikely to confuse the plot any more than Berlioz himself does with the music. There's lots of activity and complexity in the score, both over its 2 hour 45 minute duration and in any single moment. Even the first bars of music blast, then settle immediately as conductor, Edward Gardner, works his magic over the ENO Orchestra pit dwellers. Packed with sure-fast shifts of orchestral layers, the music is sound to behold.

To single out any one of the vocally expert, energetic and convincing performers on this opening night spectacular seems unfair. The spread of well-cast principals also successfully manage to compete with the glorious cacophony of Berlioz's music. Together with the indefatigable and ear-ringing force of the ENO Chorus, the clarity and fusion of voices work marvellously. A few performances under their belt will certainly clear up subtle issues with timing but the result is a triumph all the same.

Act II ends with Cellini having timely cast his Perseus in a deal with the Pope that grants him both Teresa's hand and freedom from hanging for Pompeo's murder. Then, after it's over,  the performers are as animated in their curtain call as the characters they portray, seemingly relishing the joy of having steered the production to safety. The entire evening makes believe the whole world exists right here in the vast Coliseum and leaving it to take the London Tube back to my lodgings seemed to be entering one slightly more mundane. It makes the world of Benvenuto Cellini well worth heading back to again.

THE CONSUL
Gertrude Opera
Friday 23rd May 2014, Fortyfivedownstairs, Melbourne

Glaston Toft as the Secret Police Chief

In a downtown Melbourne basement, accessed via three flights of timber stairs, a remarkable little production of Gian Carlo Menotti's, The Consul, blasted the hard, white-washed walls of a theatre space and bar known as Fortyfivedownstairs. Presented by Gertrude Opera including young artists from The Opera Studio Melbourne, the production is bare but their voices are large, their energy is strong and both their individual and collective accomplishments are notable.

A full house of more than 100 enthusiastic patrons attended the last night of four performances. Champers flowed gratis after the performance and innuendo-laced nominations provided additional entertainment as Bill Gillies, Chair of the Board of Management,  presented “alternative Green Room Awards”. Far more serious was the evening’s performance though.                                                            

 Both composer and librettist, Gian Carlo Menotti based the story of The Consul, unusually, on a 1947 newspaper report about the suicide of a Polish emigrant after being refused a visa to the USA. The Consul was Menotti’s first full opera, premiering in 1950 in Philadelphia and going on to achieve enormous international success.

Director, Theresa Borg, drew solid, nuanced performances from the entire cast, making real a world weighing down on their upturned lives. On a low black platform, sparsely furnished with a few rudimentary pieces and a backdrop that resembled an oversized clear shower curtain, Peter Corrigan’s scant set design still did the trick. That said, the platform often creaked its way into the evening’s more subdued moments. Greg Carroll’s crisp lighting design worked well with the curtain to create depth and drama, while costumes, also by Corrigan, adequately evoked hard times.

Linda Thompson as Magda Sorel

But the real praise goes to the cast. Linda Thompson portrayed the desperate and agonized character of Magda Sorel with real immensity and first-rate vocal colour. As John Sorel, Magda’s husband and political revolutionary, young artist, Eugene Raggio, displayed both fear and determination in his struggle for his family’s safety, handsomely voiced though requiring greater fluidity of movement on stage. As John’s mother, Kerrie Ann Bolton exhibited the home-grounding force of love with warmth and tenderness, her calming, beautifully rendered lullabies aptly combatting the tension. With stern officiousness and vocal bite, Belinda Prakhoff’s depiction of the Consulate secretary (both exerting power yet having none) was both demonstrative and entertaining. It will be hard to ever forget the regularity of her typewriting and her indifferent verbalisation of “Next”!

In his operatic debut as the Secret Chief of Police, Glaston Toft boomed with penetrating effect right from the start. Filling out the waiting room of “misfits” at the Consulate, Simon Meadows, as Mr Kofner, dramatised his own helplessness monumentally as he assisted his fellow applicants unselfishly and in fine voice as the magician, Blake Bowden moved with ease and cast his spell magnetically. The performance was rounded out expertly by, Adrian McEniery as Assan together with young artists Rada Tochalna as the foreign woman, Tamzyn Alexander as Vera, Alexandra Lidgerwood, as Anna Gomez and Damien Noyce as the policeman.

Under all this vocal strength, Menotti’s music cushioned the drama admirably under conductor, Rick Prakhoff’s command and Katherine Day’s inexhaustible dexterity on the grand piano, even if at times it faded a little too far into the background. Finally, solid chorus work and clear enunciation assisted the drama, though the recitatives occasionally lacked tightness and consistency.

Simon Meadows, Rada Tochalna and Belinda Prakhoff

With a similar sense of oppression and morbidity persisting in both, I couldn't help but draw a parallel between The Consul and Alban Berg's heavy-handed 1925 psychological drama, Wozzeck. So I found myself mentally building a cast list from the talented team at Gertrude
Opera even before the performance was over, certain they could equally pull off Berg's masterpiece. Perhaps it won’t be long before they do. In the meantime, Gertrude Opera’s production of Mozart’s The Magic Flute is something to look forward to.


Photos courtesy of Gertrude Opera

DON CARLOS
Composer: Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)

Theater die Chemnitz, Germany
9th March 2014

After seeing a magnificent and memorable opera performance, over time details might be forgotten, but traces of that experience will attach themselves lovingly to your heart. This is exactly what Chemnitz Oper is likely to achieve for audiences who come to see this artistic accomplishment, Don Carlos. If Giuseppe Verdi had written just one opera and it was this one, his greatness as a 19th Century composer of opera would be just as valid. Don Carlos is exceptional grand opera, a glowing masterpiece in the opera repertoire and one that must be seen by anyone with even a slight interest in opera. This production honours Verdi suitably.

Don Carlos is a long opera in 4 acts, being Verdi's shortened Milan version of 1884, after originally being premiered in 1867 in 5 acts together with a ballet. You might think that the four act version at almost four hours still asks a great deal of attention from the audience but its story is wonderfully intriguing and the Chemnitz Oper production successfully paces it with clever stagecraft to exact a magnificently spellbinding experience.

Don Carlos is the heir to the Spanish throne, betrothed to and in love with Elizabeth of Valois, daughter of the King of France. His father, King Phillip II, however, decides to marry her himself as part of a peace treaty after the war with France. Alongside this heartbreaking arrangement bubbles a story infused with political tension, in regards to the treatment of the people of Flanders, which Spain is ruling, and the at times uncomfortable tug-of-war between Church and State.

Historically, the action takes place in the middle of the 16th Century but this bold production positions us somewhere in the middle of 20th Century Spain, thereby referencing the dictatorship under Francisco Franco. This loose reference alone is enough to dramatise on stage the multi-faceted tensions that are being played out. It even helps to make it apparent that the purpose here is not necessarily to relate an episode in history but use it to take us on a journey through both emotional and behavioural experiences and responses.

Producer, Helen Malkowsky and Set/Costume Designer Kathrin-Susann Brose, have created a work of real collaborative styling. The unfolding drama was beautifully intertwined over its numerous scenes utilising a revolving stage, which incorporated both simple, yet intricately intimate spaces, as well as formal rooms. The one anomaly appeared in the first scene of Act 2, which ineffectively introduced a projected slide backdrop of a verdant grove which distracted from the muted tones of the overall staging. The costuming exuded an elegant and sophisticated era of the mid 20th Century, of a decade not quite easily pinpointed but harmoniously blended in soft hues of ivory, sage and buttercup for the ladies of the court, cobalt and black for the noblemen and scarlet for the clerics. Against soft lilac-grey partitioned spaces adorned with black trim, together with evocative yet unfussy lighting, the overall result was a strikingly creative and appealing combination.

The orchestra under the baton of Conductor, Frank Beermann, brought out the wide-ranging emotional colours, which both the music and story demand. Evident was a consistent balance of power in the pit and even in the bombastic moments of musical showmanship the orchestra never drained or overwhelmed the action on stage. The musicians shone especially brilliantly in the absolute glory of the Act 2 "Spuntato Ecco Il Di D'Esultanza", a 10-minute feast of the majestic, funereal and melodramatic. Likewise, the members of the chorus, a staple of many a Verdi opera, sang with shining confidence throughout this second act.

It was the female principals that won the night on consistency, dramaturgy and vocal accuracy. Armenian soprano, Karine Babajanyan, as Elisabeth of Valois, sang with great clarity and finesse, her range ascending from the hollowness of a forest trunk to the sweetness of honey, especially evident in the Act 1 aria "Non Piangar, Mia Compagna". Russian mezzo-soprano, Anna Danik sang the role of Princess Eboli, a Spanish aristocrat, herself in love with Don Carlos. In her rendition of the noted arias "Nel Giardin Del Bello" of Act 1 and "O Don Fatale" of Act 3, Danik was in every way astounding, singing with both a vibrant and delicate elasticity.

The tender friendship between Don Carlos and the Marquis of Posa, who has returned from Flanders with news of the mistreatment of the people under the Spanish, did not always hit the mark in its portrayal but the voices, however, embraced their sentiments. The Finnish tenor, Christian Juslin, as Don Carlos was firm and commanding in voice, with Korean baritone, Adam Kim, as the Marquis of Posa, rendering an equally, solid warmth, though noticeably uneven and strained in his upper range. Their signature duet "Dio, Che Nell'Alma Infodere", of Act 1, incorporating a musical theme which visits the opera regularly, was wonderfully strident. The later Act 3 scene, in which Posa is comforted in death by his friend, appeared marginally uncomfortable and sadly unravelled the unifying effect of their vocal strengths. The bass of Kouta Rasanen in the role of The Grand Inquisitor was suitably full of power and chillingly expressive, while Tuomas Pursio, as King Phillip II, displayed both vocal prowess and strength in his character.

Incorporating two intervals to enjoy a drink, mingle and discuss the opera, the evening may be long but is by no means tiresome. This production is a magnificent achievement by the Chemnitz Oper and truly informs us of the immense quality a small German regional city can offer. Bravi Tutti!