Rossini's La Cenerentola
Met - May 2, 2014
Lui: Despite the serious moral
pretensions of its subtitle, Rossini’s La Cenerentola, ossia La bontà in trionfo (Cinderella, or Goodness Triumphant) is pure opera buffa
replete with all the musical fireworks that one comes to expect from a buoyant
bel canto Rossinian romp. When it’s done right, it’s good. So good that you
just can’t get enough, especially when the singing is amazing. As was the case
in this run at the Met.
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| Juan Diego Florez sparkles as Prince Don Ramiro Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
Lei: As there’s nothing more
depressing than a below average tenor, there’s nothing more wildly exhilarating
than an extraordinary one like Juan Diego Florez. We basically bought
these Cenerentola tickets because of him (and Joyce and Luca too), so we
were disappointed when we heard that he was canceling the first three shows of
the run. We then regained a bit of hope when we heard that Javier Camarena was
replacing him and got to look forward to catching this up-and-coming Mexican
tenor. Then again, Juan Diego surprised us when he recovered sooner than
expected and ended up performing for us after all. It’s always amazing to hear
how his voice so effortlessly projects and fills the Met’s space with a sound
so precise and pure and perfect Italian articulation. His tone is gracious,
fresh and tender at the same time. Juan Diego’s virtuosism for bel canto is
truly unparalleled among any living tenor I’ve seen. His acting is perfect too,
convincingly ranging from ardent lover to prankster to irate monarch in the
same act, keeping the public hooked whenever he’s on the stage. Florez clearly
has the rock-star ability to literally drive audiences wild, this time so much
so that he just had to concede an encore of “Sì, ritrovarla io giuro.”
Which he could not refuse to do, perhaps because Javier Camarena also encored
this same aria the week before? No matter the reason, Juan Diego was
sensational and we were so very lucky to catch him.
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| Joyce DiDonato at her best as Cinderella Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
Lui: This cast was packed full
with talent. Joyce DiDonato has some of the most spectacular technique
of any mezzo soprano I’ve heard live, and, unlike the tenor situation, there is
no famine of talented female singers right now. She is consistently agile as
she runs up and down the signature bel canto scales and fully devours all of
Rossini’s vocal acrobatics. The range of this character is also striking
because it combines coloratura acrobatics with extremely tender passages that
Joyce DiDonato embodies so beautifully. Her agility defies the ordinary
dictates of breath. She embodies every note of her challenging arias with a
chesty presence in ways that few singers either male or female are capable of.
More than any other singer tonight, Joyce DiDonato sent tingles through my body
with the piercing purity of her technique and her sound. Especially in the
passage that climaxes with the delicately plaintive yet profoundly optimistic “Nacqui all’affanno.” She filled the hall
with her voice, in a way that I’ve only ever heard Juan Diego Florez do. She
played the space of the Metropolitan Opera house as though it were an
instrument.
Lei: Sure, the roles of Cinderella and the
Prince are nice, but a great part of this opera’s success relies on the comic
force of characters such as Don Magnifico (the greedy decadent stepfather),
Dandini (the waiter acting as Prince), Tisbe and Clorinda (the gold-digging
stepsisters). These are really the characters that have the best punch lines and
sing the most colorful hilarious bits of the libretto. Think about Dandini’s “compliment”
to Tisbe and Clorinda: “son tutte papà” (they look like their daddy). Or
else when he is told that the prince’s choice of bride may be a bit more
bizarre than expected, Don Magnifico wonders in an aside: Che volesse
maritarsi con me? (Could it be he wants to marry me?).
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| Don Magnifico jockeys with Dandini Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
Basso buffo Alessandro Corbelli and
baritone Pietro Spagnoli were terrific as Don Magnifico and Dandini.
Whenever I hear Italian singers at the Met (which is unfortunately not that
often), I am reminded of what a difference it makes to hear native speakers
perform, particularly when the nuances of the language are so important as in
this hilarious libretto. Corbelli and Spagnoli not only savoured each word and
delivered great coloratura duets, but were also highly entertaining comic
actors. One example of the many duets they made shine is the one where Don
Magnifico lists his extravagant expectations for his oh so desired status of
father of the prince’s future bride:
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| Dandini breaks the news Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
Abbia sempre pronti in sala trenta servi in
piena gala, due staffieri ~ sei cocchieri, tre portieri ~ due braccieri, cento
sedici cavalli, duchi, conti e marescialli a dozzine convitati, pranzi sempre
coi gelati poi carrozze, poi bombè, ed innanzi colle fiaccole per lo meno sei
lacchè.*
To which Dandini responds, taking off his mask:
Vi rispondo senza arcani che noi siamo assai
lontani. Ho un lettino ~ uno stanzino; ma piccino ~ ma meschino. Io non uso far
de’ pranzi; mangio sempre degli avanzi, non m’accosto a’ gran signori, tratto
sempre servitori. Me ne vado sempre a piè, o di dietro una scappavia, se
qualcun mi vuol con sé.**
The stepsisters Clorinda and Tisbe are another
important slapstick pillar of the opera and also in charge of extensive and
challenging coloratura arias. Soprano Rachelle Durkin and mezzo Patricia
Risley were vocally solid and funny to watch, maybe at times forcing the
hand a bit on the silly end, though never disturbingly so.
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| Daddy and his darlings: Son tutte papà Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera |
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| Fairy godmother Alidoro Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
Alidoro is a character with many hats: trusted advisor of the prince, disguised beggar testing the sisters’ good heart and Cenerentola’s fairy godmother (in this production with a very literal pair of golden wings; his name means “wings of gold”). Luca Pisaroni did a fine job with his ironically solemn acting and always strong expressive singing, though I believe he really shines in more dynamic roles (think Leporello or Caliban).
The plot is of course very simple and really
just almost an excuse for a triumph of exhilarating delightful Rossini music,
pure bel canto explosions and hilarious opera buffa moments. There are a
number of digressions and skits that do not add much to the story but are
wonderful mediums for pure operatic head-spinning entertainment. La Cenerentola is
on the long side (2 hours and a half hours with 2 intermissions), but it really
never has a dull moment and it’s so deliciously bubbly that one wants to drink
more and more of it, particularly when Fabio Luisi is conducting.
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| Goodness always shines through Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera |
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| The belle of the ball Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
But this is also a thematic aspect of the character. She is not as shallow as
the others, like her half-sisters, for example, who are cruel, self-centered,
miserly and generally clueless. Cenerentola on the other hand is quick to
perform acts of charity when early in she doesn’t hesitate to help a hungry
beggar in need. She confesses outright that he she isn’t interested in the man
she thinks is the prince (Dandini the lackey in disguise), and admits to having
developed romantic feelings for a man who occupies a far humbler station, his
page boy (really the Prince in disguise). And then when she finally winds up on
top of the wedding cake with the actual Prince, she doesn’t seek revenge
against the family that had abused her for long. Instead she pleads for mercy
and makes a case for why they should all be forgiven and embraced by life in
the new court. And so: Goodness triumphs in the end.
Lei: The sets had several
whimsical nods to surrealism: a Magrittian chorus of men with umbrellas,
suitcases and bowler hats, parting asymmetrical walls, a wedding cake topped
with actual singers playing the nuptial couple and a dream-like scintillating
sea from which Cinderella emerges at the ball. While at first Cesare Lievi’s
sets seemed too bare, as the opera progressed I got to appreciate their subtle
irony since at the end of the day fairy tales are by definition surreal.
Mime-type make up for virtually all characters except for the Prince and
Cinderella was also an interest contrast to emphasize the “true” couple.
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| Cinderella magically emerging from the sea Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera |
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| The singers-topped wedding cake Photo credit: Sara Kulwrich / The New York Times |
The surrealist take was conceptually intriguing,
with some things working nicely, as the trick of tying all the singers in a
tangled knot, liberalizing the metaphor in the Act II sextet “Un nodo avvilupato,” and some others not
at all, like the absurd trattoria-style feast à la Un Americano a Roma.
All in all, I do prefer the 1981 movie version of Jean-Pierre Ponnelle’s landmark La Scala production, which is definitely more traditional but also more
effective in conveying the social contrasts between the Don Magnifico household
and the Prince’s palace, its caricature chorus of male lackeys more fitting
the joyful music and more visually engaging than a group of stern grey men out
of a Magritte painting.
– Lei & Lui
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| Un nodo avviluppato Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera |
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| A royal palace banquet? Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera |
* Always have thirty
servants in full livery, with 116 horses. Invite dukes in coaches by the dozen
for dinners with ice cream.
** Frankly, that
won’t be possible. I never give dinner parties. I eat scraps, mix with
servants, and travel on foot.
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