Gender-Bending Baroque in Brooklyn

Handel’s Aci, Galatea e Polifemo (1708)

National Sawdust

July 12, 2017

Intransigent lovers up against steep odds and a domineering employer
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg

Going into director Christopher Alden’s take on Handel’s Aci, Galatea e Polifemo at National Sawdust, I knew we were in for some kind of theatrical treat. He is the kind of director who always rises to the occasion. He didn’t disappoint. I found myself caught up and transported by his vision.

The story of Aci and Galatea’s frustrated love is close to my heart. Ovid’s telling of the story toward the end of the Metamorphoses is a full of his characteristic humor and irreverent genius. Written during a period in which staged narrative works were anathema, Handel’s early Italian oratorio pushes the genre to the limit. It is packed with highly dramatic narrative content that by its very nature transcends the park-and-bark format of a mere courtly recital and Alden’s staging brought it all forcefully to life.

Veering away from the bucolic setting of the original myth where nymphs and shepherds frolic along the wooded coasts of Sicily, Handel’s librettist Nicola Giuvo transposes the story to a more regal milieu. He casts the innocent young lovers Aci and Galatea as servants who are employed in the irascible Cyclops Polifemo’s bath complex. Christopher Alden capitalizes on the class warfare element of this shift in focus.

The bathes of Polifemo welcome the audience upon arrival
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

As the audience filed into the space we were immediately transported to the baths of Polifemo. Projections of Sicilian maiolica tiles adorned two of the walls in the otherwise space-age venue at National Sawdust in Williamsburg, and a claw foot bathtub stood toward one end of the stage. Once the orchestra assembled, two figures dressed in unisex hospital-like scrubs complete with hygienic shower caps plodded mechanically out to the center of the stage, each with their own personal Swiffer.^® They stood deadpan with their shoulders square to the audience. 

Suicide is always an option
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg

Cue the electronic sound effects of vigorous scrubbing and the two begin running their Swiffers back and forth across the floor in front of them, brainlessly, and otherwise motionlessly. It is mind-numbing work and they couldn’t have done it more dejectedly, all while they sing about the beauty of a life lived at liberty, carefree amidst the flowers and the trees. How’s that for irony?

As in the most vivid madrigal word paintings in music of this moment in baroque musical history, their voices ran frolicking through fields of melismas, up and down hills of scales with dramatic intensity, though their body language communicated nothing more than an uninspired humdrum day of hard labor. Yet in the mouths of these two talented interpreters of the baroque, not a single note felt superfluous. It never felt like virtuosity as an end in itself, which is really saying something for the singers as well as the direction.

The predator and his prey
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg

The gender confusion created by the gender neutral costumes worn by Aci and Galatea in the opening the opera is only heightened by the score that casts the young shepherd boy Aci as a pants role, sung by soprano Ambur Braid, and his beloved sea nymph Galatea as a castrato, sung on this occasion by the extraordinary countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo. As a result, the production kept you guessing as to which of the two was going to be the boy and which the girl, especially since they were even hard to tell apart with their bodies and hair almost completely covered.

Aci launches with a vengeance into a jealousy aria while “he” cleans the tub of the cruel padrone, as the tile projections begin to reveal a series of Big Brother-like unflinching eyes at random across the wall. The effect is both trippy and creepy. He climaxes in an intentionally screeching high note, drowning out even the orchestra with his frustration. The production featured several literal representations of the metaphors of the text, generally in the use of digital projections designed by Mark Grey that unfurled on the rear walls.

Enter Polifemo.

Polifemo is a Cyclops operating on a whole other level
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg

Just before the predatory padrone makes his entrance the maiolica tile projection faded away and enormous Trump-style bold block letters in shimmering gold slowly appear across the full expanse of the wall from floor to ceiling. I half expected him to come out with a sad orange-tinged comb over, but thankfully that wasn’t the case. Instead the overbearing Polifemo was sung by the dashing bass-baritone Davóne Tines, a slender ogre of a man, who struck an imposing presence. Both vocally and physically he commanded the scene. In his opening aria he pulled off his long melismatic lines with a giant sound that was technically stunning inasmuch as it left me breathless. His baritone sound grew plush and smooth as he lowered down into the bathtub to terrorize his servants.

The Lord who refuses to let sleeping lovers lie
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg

Each da capo repetition gave him the opportunity to add a subtle variation on his embodiment of the character, piling up twisted little motivations for each of the modulations especially during the tender moments of his Non sempre, no, crudele, / mi parlerai così (No, cruel one, you will not always speak to me like that). To which Galatea responds, while “she” shaves and bathes him, Folle, quanto mi rido / di tua vana speranza (Foolish one, how your vain hope makes me laugh). More than just class warfare, the opera is about the grotesque abuse of power, or rather the powerful imposing themselves sexually on the powerless – a timely topic to say the least.

Caps on and gender rules don't apply
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg 

Once they finally take off their shower caps, it becomes clear that Alden is bent on playing with our expectations even further. He had Ambur Braid play up her femininity by flaunting her luscious locks of flowing hair despite the fact that in every other way she wore the “pants” in the relationship, while Anthony Roth Costanzo seemed to embody an albeit effete masculinity but whose behavior tended toward the a more feminine set of gender roles. It was a thrilling gender bending spectacle that only became more intricately entangled as the story evolved.

What made Alden’s vision richer than a mere inditement of Trump’s America was the fluidity with which he played with gender. Polifemo’s appetites seem to know no boundaries when it comes to his insatiable and indiscriminate desire to enact his perverted sense of cruelty on those beneath him. The gender neutrality implicit in the score, here made explicit by Alden and his case, only served to heighten our disgust of Polifemo’s abuses.

Alden additionally doubles down on the tragic outcome of the story. Galatea ends up taking her own life even before her lover has a chance to take his revenge and fall victim to the Cyclops. As a result, Galatea makes her final musical gesture (in a break with the libretto and its original setting) from beyond the grave. Aci goes out with the classic Handel gesture of pulsing strings. Impara, ingrata (Learn, ungrateful one), “he” sings to the wrong person at first, ostensibly lecturing all parties involved about the lengths to which love can take us.

The outlook for the poor nymph Galatea is bleak
Photo credit: Jill Steinberg

And so, as in many of the Alden productions I have seen, the show concludes with a sick and twisted gesture. The light of a chandelier alone illumines the funerary final scene. Polifemo seems to be haunted by the trail of bodies left behind that flop about a bit too violently, like fish out of water gasping for a final breath. He props the dead bodies up against the wall together so that the final image we get is that of the frustrated young lovers in death holding hands. Alden’s lovers are memorialized with a tragic flourish of bathos and the audience leaves feeling particularly bleak about the state of current affairs.

­– Lui

A curtain call for troubling times
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

Apotheosis in Bushwick

Vivaldi & Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater

LoftOpera

The Muse

June 24, 2017

A mother emotes over the profoundest loss
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

It was a night unlike any other out at the Muse with LoftOpera. It was the company’s first excursion into the baroque and for the occasion they put together a mash up all their own. In a break with the past party vibe one has come to expect from an evening at LoftOpera, the general tone of the evening was somber, and rightly so. There was a seat for everybody and all the seats were full, which made it feel like a more civil outing than the usual sprint for a spot and people squeezing in anywhere they can, including on the floor.

Husband and wife suffer alone, together
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

The evening we went was well attended but fortunately the venue wasn’t bursting at the seams. In fact, the vibe was mellower, which perfectly suited the music. And everybody around us was in rapture with it.

It was plaintive and reflective, beautifully executed by the orchestra, breathtakingly sung. The whole product was extremely high quality with what would even seem to be luxury casting. The cast of two singers, soprano Heather Buck and countertenor Randall Scotting, were truly excellent and the orchestra was as tight as it has ever been at Loft.

At first impact, the production also came across as a rather elaborate outing for the company. An elevated catwalk crossed the space in a “V” with stage-like platform along one of the long walls framed by tall scaffolding and a row of projection screens.

Experiencing this music live in such an intimate and informal context moved me in ineffable ways. It brought me back to the days of writing my dissertation when I listened to this plaintive and reflective sub-genre of baroque music on heavy rotation. My eyes teared up from the first bars with emotion and the power of recognition.

 Brian Gilling at the helm of the orchestra
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

When the orchestra eased into the opening piece by Vivaldi (Sonata à 4 al Santo Sepolcro in E flat major) the projections began to show a series of highly mannerist video recordings of the male and female leads in close up grieving to extremes and played back in slow motion. They really helped to set the scene and made it clear that the evening was really going to be all about tone.

Emotionally raw at every turn
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

Director John de los Santos abstracted out of the story of the death of Jesus on the cross a drama of a husband and wife suffering from the loss of a child, potentially not necessarily the Messiah himself, although the text was sung in the original Latin and even the supertitles remained faithful to what was actually being sung to the letter, including all its references to mortem Christi and the Lord and the rest.

Slow motion, highly mannerist projections set the tone
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

The concept made me think of Lars Von Trier’s Anti-Christ and the torment that couple inflicts on themselves and each other in a similar situation. Need I say more? 

Consolation is never enough
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

They attempt to console one another. They go through the motions of their daily life together as a couple and, heightened by the extreme beauty of the music, it is so very poignant. They sit down to dinner, for example at one point, but they only manage to pour themselves a glass of wine. Thus, they remain lodged in their own personal suffering. When confronted with such pain, each of us remains an island. The grieving process is seen to be just that insular. But they take us there, unflinchingly, and don’t let us down, no matter how hard it is to watch.

In fact, the whole thing climaxes with a moment of in extremis exaltation. After all that the couple has been through on their own but also together, the mother in one way or another is able to sublimate her grief and as the orchestra lurches into the final bars we watch breathlessly as she climbs up onto the scaffolding and experiences a kind of resurrection or apotheosis, or are we to understand this as the assumption of Mary in more explicitly theological terms? In any case, it was unspeakably beautiful. The final image emblazoned in your mind is that of the mother of Christ crucified in her own right, with her arms outspread and her head hung low from exhaustion in her grief.

The auteur vision played the music and text straight (thank goodness!)
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

It is yet another sign that the hipster scene in the city has grown up. I can’t help but think that this was truly an adult night out in the kind of place that one might have caught a alt-rock band or a DJ night even just a few years ago. Filling it with a group of young people eager to ponder the depths of their souls to baroque music makes me so very happy.

– Lui

A mother ascends
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

An ascension, another crucifixion, an apotheosis
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

Another great show from LoftOpera, another angel gets her wings
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

A Garden of Baroque Delights

Handel’s Rinaldo (1711)

Operamission

Merkin Concert Hall

June 16, 2016

Rinaldo and Armida in the garden of earthly delights
Francesco Hayez (1791-1882)

For two nights only, in an unbridled labor of love, Operamission brought us a concert presentation of Handel’s Rinaldo, an opera in three acts based on Torquato Tasso’s late Renaissance epic La Gerusalemme liberata. Operamission founder and musical director Jennifer Peterson conducted from the harpsichord. Delivering a delectably serious evening of music, Peterson evinced a taut performance from her collaborators. There really wasn’t a weak link in the whole thing. The orchestra on Baroque period instruments glided through a commanding interpretation of the score and the singers were all top-notch, if not world-class talent. It was a night not to be missed.

Nicholas Tamagna as Goffredo

From the outset we are introduced to the fearless Christian general Goffredo sung by Nicholas Tamagna, the first of four countertenors featured over the course of the evening. With super agility he soared through his opening aria with forceful musicality. As befitting the forces of good, Tamagna’s Goffredo had a clarity and precision in which you could hear the clarion call of Christian purity that was at once piercing yet chestful. This is Baroque singing in all its glory.

Countertenor Andrew Rader, singing Eustazio, was even higher pitched than his countertenor counterparts (higher even than the soprano too, obviously). So far in the first sequences of Act I, Handel has planted us firmly in the aesthetic territory of the Baroque with its fetishistic embrace of the uppermost registers. Rader in his early exhortations to the Christian army was like a late spring rosé, fruity and delicious.

Franco Pomponi as Argante

Change of scene. Cue the regal music and… enter Argante, the Saracen King of Jerusalem, sung by Franco Pomponi with his manly baritone. After the three counter tenors and the soprano we met in the previous scene, Pomponi’s was the first truly masculine sonic presence of the evening. A monster. Red shirt, black suit, finally some manliness, replete with the brutality that often comes with it. Everything vibrates when he makes his entrance and bolts out his first aria: “Sibillar gli angui d’Aletto.” This is Christian’s adversary and his first words resound with a reference to Turnus, the famous nemesis of the Trojan Aeneas in Virgil’s Aeneid. We’re on the right track. This is Tasso with all of his intertexts intact. Pomponi has a broad toned, beefy sound, open, bloated, but powerful, especially surprisingly full in the upper registers. In his “Vieni, oh cara” aria in a subsequent scene, he ends with a plaintive drop that grounds his plea to his ally and lover Armida, whose help he seeks to enlist against the Christian threat.

Christine Arand as Armida

Soprano Christine Arand, as Armida, answers with some fiery music of her own. Arand strutted out in full possession of her every scene in a sleek black evening gown, sensual as a serpentine seductress. The libretto calls for her to enter on a chariot pulled by fire-breathing dragons like Medea (no precedent for this in the Tasso source material). Despite the lack of chariot and dragons, Arand was very sexy, a dangerous allure emanated from her every move. The music brightens when she changes the subject to Rinaldo and expresses her desire for him. Previously she was all evil, now she waxes rhetorically bright even frizzante, though still clad in her hip-hugging tight black dress. A real femme fatale.

Once Rinaldo and Almirena have been whisked away to a locus amoenus where they are to be distracted from the battlefield, delightful bird music kicks in. Almirena sings her arioso, “Augelletti che cantate” and the sound of birdsong takes flight in the orchestra, weaving in and out of soprano Malia Bendi Merad’s voice. The recorders and a virtuosic piccolo spread their wings truly savoring the playful indulgence Handel imbued in his musical characterization of this place of delight, a classic topos of the Renaissance chivalric epic that is not lost on Handel’s imagination and the orchestra rose to the occasion. This extended musical passage was pure joy.

Randall Scotting as Rinaldo

When Armida snatches Almirena from Rinaldo, he shifts gears into “Cara sposa, amante cara,” an aria of biting sadness. Poor Rinaldo. This is his Orpheus moment, pining for the return of his beloved with Almirena standing in for Eurydice. Randall Scotting in the role of Rinaldo lent this aria an emotionality that burst out into the space and pushed against the ceiling. Imbuing it with the confidence of familiarity, he gave it an iconicity that made it feel like a showpiece, as though we’ve been listening to it forever. Despite the fact that it is far from the most famous piece in the opera, Scotting showed that it was his night. He really shined as the Christian Achilles, Rinaldo.

The first violin and first bassoon killing it now. After Eustazio picks Rinaldo up and dusts him off with words of encouragement, the great Christian knight is suddenly swept away by a newfound confidence. He surges up on a wave of music that blows through the orchestra like a gust of wind: “Venti, turbini, prestate / le vostre ali a questo piè!” intones Rinaldo, bringing Act I to a close.

Malia Bendi Merad as Almirena

Act II brings us the really iconic compositions of the evening. It’s one of those pieces in the history of opera that most everyone will have encountered in one way or another. It has appeared in movies. It has been covered by pop stars. It has been endlessly anthologized. Yet we so very rarely have the pleasure of encountering it in its original context. It is one of those masterpieces that never fail to move you. Not only did I tear up virtually on impact of the first bars of the marvellous “Lascia ch’io pianga,” but most of the orchestra seemed to be genuinely moved too. Malia Bendi Merad gave us a stunningly vulnerable take on the aria inhabiting the all too familiar lines with a feeble, touching, emotional frailty that was utterly moving. It was also very tactfully conducted by Peterson who rarefied the mood of the orchestra by slowing the tempo down as the piece fades in and out with feeling before surging again into the final refrain that hit you like a punch in the gut while your were already down. It was a stunning moment – worth the price of admission tenfold. The audience seemed to be so enraptured that no one could bring themselves to applaud in fear of ruining the lingering sensation. I know that I wanted to savor it as long as I could.

Biraj Barkakaty as Mago

During his brief Act III appearance as the Mago, countertenor Biraj Barkakaty made his presence felt. He imbued his aria and concomitant recitative with a round, clear sound that rang through the hall to the sparse accompaniment of the harpsichord and cellos. His words of encouragement to the Christian army resound with crystalline conviction and hope.

This baroque repertory is a rare art. It is very impressive when a group of such young musicians are able to pull Handel off not only so successfully but really so captivatingly. All four of the countertenors in the cast absolutely devoured their melismas and owned their breathlessly Baroque coloratura lines. This is no easy feat.

Armida abandoned by Rinaldo
Tiepolo (1696-1770)

As with the other three Handel programs (this is the fourth in the series), Operamission’s Rinaldo was an act of musical and artistic generosity from start to finish. Suffice it to say, I’m eager to see what they come up with next. I'm ready for number five!

– Lui

George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)

Torquato Tasso (1544-1595)

Foreign Correspondent: Baroque in Paris

Vivica Genaux Recital

Salle Gaveau, Paris

February 2, 2016

The stunning Vivica Genaux.
Photo credit: Christian Steiner

Let me introduce myself. Well, maybe later, music first. Not surprisingly, Paris has an incredibly intense opera scene, which goes well beyond the world famous Opéra. Less internationally-known theaters or independent opera companies often offer high-quality productions of less popular operas in more intimate settings (which makes these productions a must for opera lovers). Upcoming not-to-be-missed shows include Mitridate Re di Ponto at the Théâtre des Champs Elysées (under superstar director Emmanuelle Haïm, which delivered one of this season’s personal favorites, Francesco Cavalli’s Xerse at the Opéra de Lille), and DivinOpera’s production of Offenbach’s La Périchole.

Genaux captivates the Salle Gaveau.
Photo credit: L'Altro

The equally intense concert scene this week offered a superb performance of Vivica Genaux at the Salle Gaveau. The program included Baroque arias expressly written for Farinelli, the most famous castrato of all time. We all know how demanding these arias are, and that very few singers today can actually match the score challenges. Well, no doubt Genaux is one of these singers.

Genaux’s voice is not incredibly big, and her register is fairly limited. But she is a true master of the art of coloratura and has always done a great job in choosing a repertoire that perfectly fits her voice. The concert program included both arie di bravura and lamenti. Genaux literally nailed all of them, especially in the second half of the show, when her voice warmed up and the audience was totally at her feet. Genaux’s coloratura is always extremely fast and precise, and she is able to deliver the most difficult arias (apparently) without any effort. Genaux strikes a stunningly elegant figure and has a huge stage presence, which made the public almost forget that we were listening to a concert (as opposite to a full-staged performance).

I was particularly impressed by Porpora’s Come nave in ria tempesta, while my charming companion was more deeply moved by slower arias such as Porpora’s Alto Giove. It is always a pleasure to see friends who are not used to going to the opera so deeply touched and enthusiastic about a performance. This should be the goal of all performances, and Genaux perfectly reached the goal on Tuesday night!

The spirit of Farinelli was invoked throughout the evening.
Photo credit: L'Altro

At the end of the concert’s program, Genaux delivered two additional virtuoso arias. The first one was a recently re-discovered aria that Giacomelli composed for Farinelli. I was so excited when I heard how the aria had been neglected for centuries that I forgot to note down its name (please forgive me).

The second aria was one of Genaux’s signature tracks, Vivaldi’s Agitata da due venti. Once again, Genaux’s fireworks and pyrotechnics were impeccable (especially in the second aria, which Genaux masters like very few other singers in the world). A true musical orgasm. As soon as the orchestra stopped playing, the audience tore down the house, with an enthusiasm that I have rarely heard in a solo-concert (this was even more surprising considering the relatively-advanced average age of the audience).

Right after the show, an ever-smiling Genaux joined the super enthusiastic audience in the foyer, to take pictures with the fans and sign copies of her bestselling albums. (I have to admit that I re-bought her stunning Arias for Farinelli just to have it signed.) I like her even more for her non-diva and smiley attitude. Quite surprisingly, a good number of superb mezzos specialized in the baroque repertoire (including personal favorites Joyce DiDonato and Ann Hallenberg) have the same positive and friendly approach to their public.

Genaux was superbly accompanied by Les Musiciens du Louvre, an ensemble that commands the baroque repertoire like few other orchestras in Europe (and, likely, the world). I do not know how many times Genaux and the orchestra actually rehearsed, but they definitely gave the impression of having worked together for years, being in perfect synchronization piece after piece. Les Musiciens du Louvre also gave moving performances of Vivaldi’s Concerto for 2 Violins and Cello in G minor, RV 578A and Hasses’ Fuga e Grave in G minor.

I almost forgot to introduce myself. I am a close friends with Lui and Lei, with whom I share a deep passion for bel canto. Musically trained in La Scala’s unforgiving Loggione, I spent the last two years around the Met and New York’s hipster independent opera companies. Currently based in Paris, I am always looking for great performances all across Europe. Ad maiora!

– L’Altro

Vivica on tour with Les Musiciens du Louvre.
Photo credit: Laurent Barbotin