Tenors Battle Over Desdemona

Otello, ossia il moro di Venezia
Gioachino Rossini
Libretto by Francesco Maria Berio di Salsa
July 7, 2015
Teatro alla Scala, Milan, Italy

Desdemona and the battling tenors
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lui: Milan’s Teatro alla Scala commissioned Jürgen Flimm’s new production of Rossini’s Otello as part of the city’s many offerings to visitors in connection with the Expo 2015 world’s fair. Maybe not the most obvious choice as it’s all too easy to think that Rossini’s opere serie have been surpassed in one way or another despite the Renaissance of interest in Rossini buffo, but his Otello, nevertheless, has much to recommend it.

The victor returns.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lei: I was impressed by the complexity and sheer enjoyability of this Otello all while noting Rossini’s “recycling” habits: the overture here is almost identical to the one in Il Turco in Italia, and several arias (including showcase pieces such as Che ascolto? and Tra tante smanie e tante) are very similar to bits that he will go on to recycle in Cenerentola and La Donna del Lago – I may even be missing some additional references here as I am not familiar with the entire universe of Rossini’s myriad works. The composer popped out operas at a very fast pace, still I cannot help but smile at one famous Donizetti comment referring to his colleague as “awfully lazy.”

Why so much indecision?
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lui: Rossini’s Otello differs from the more popular Shakespearean version of the story on many counts, the most relevant one being the more central role of the characters of Rodrigo and Desdemona’s father Elmiro. Here Otello’s jealousy is triggered by his belief that Desdemona is betraying him with Rodrigo, chosen by Elmiro as his daughter’s husband (unbeknownst to him, she already secretly married the Moorish general). Also, as in La Donna del Lago, Desdemona is the object of desire of three men (Otello, Rodrigo and Iago), which is a very welcome occasion for having a tenor bel canto feast. These details aside though, the main themes and dramatic impact of the work remain the same, particularly in the chilling finale with Desdemona’s murder and Otello’s desperate suicide after he is told that it was all Iago’s fault and Elmiro and Rodrigo would be happy if he married Desdemona.

Good night, my love.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lei: I was surprised by how radically different the three acts of the opera are, both dramatically and musically. I found Act I to be a bit flat as it set the stage for the different themes, with the action picking up collectively in Act II (Rodrigo’s pleading with Desdemona, her confession to already being wed to Otello, Iago’s scheming and the furious confrontation between Otello and Rodrigo). The drama explodes and peaks more intimately between Desdemona and Otello in Act III (her lyric despair, his murderous jealousy and ensuing desperate suicide).

Lui: The first act in particular feels perhaps the most methodical. Rossini’s treatment of the libretto feels at times formulaic in the dueling duets between the tenors, each taking turns repeating the same lines or slight variations thereof. But it turns out that this was all just exposition because in Act II the fireworks really begin, with the Otello-Iago duet, L’ira d’avverso fato (that by the way was picked up by Verdi in Rigoletto’s Vendetta), and the Otello-Rodrigo face off, Ah vieni, nel tuo sangue. The third act is indeed more subtle and focused on individual feelings and tensions between Otello and Desdemona.

The casualties are counted.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lei: There’s something quite irresistible about extraordinary tenors outsinging one another, when done right one simply cannot get enough of it – it’s exhilarating and addictive. Rossini knew that and used the dueling tenors trick in Otello and in later works as La Donna del Lago, Ermione and Armida. Interestingly, these Rossinian works marked the switch for male leading roles from the more sexually ambiguous castrato and contralto musico to tenors, made possible by the Compagnia del San Carlo in Naples available to Rossini at the time. These duets are truly a feast for the ears if great tenors are available, which seems to be one of the reasons why many of these serious operas are so rarely performed (when compared to the buffas). Otello calls for three challenging tenor roles (the title character, Rodrigo and Iago) and tonight we were lucky to have singers who were up to the task.

The tenors duke it out for Desdemona.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

The world class cast was overall very strong, with exciting peaks. Juan Diego Florez as Rodrigo was his usual sensational self, delivering bright, exciting fireworks but also highly lyric and moving moments (Ah come mai non senti / pietà dei miei tormenti). His performance left me wanting for more, too bad that the Rodrigo role does not have more lines. Gregory Kunde’s Otello was impressive, particularly for a tenor in his sixties. His is a baritonal tenor, with a beautiful timbre, manly and agile. The duets between Florez and Kunde were among the most exciting operatic moments I’ve witnessed all year.

Iago spars with Rodrigo.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Tenor Edgardo Rocha as Iago was pretty strong both vocally and as a stage presence, holding his ground next to Florez and Kunde. He was always convincingly evil to the core. Bass Roberto Tavaglini as Elmiro exhibited his powerful instrument that filled the space more than anybody else, with fluid phrasing and strong almost violent expressivity as Desdemona’s despotic father. Mezzo Annalisa Stoppa was also pretty impressive in the secondary role of Emilia, with a powerful and expressive instrument.

Soprano Olga Peretyatko as Desdemona had beautiful stage presence and displayed great acting chops. Vocally, she delivered a solid and accurate performance though not particularly exhilarating on the emotional level. Her articulation at times reminded me a lot of Netrebko’s dark chesty undertones, must be a Russian singer thing. Peretyatko carried the show as the emotional focus and core of all men involved, however, singing-wise the fellas were way more impressive, except maybe for her rendition of the Canzone del Salice (the famous Willow song) in Act III, when time stopped as Desdemona heart-wrenchingly sang from a gondola with the accompanying harpist slowly floating by in the background as though passing like two ships in the night on one of Venice’s many canals.

The ravishing Olga Peretyatko in her feathers.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lui: Upon our first intimate glimpse of Desdemona in Act I, she is seen on the beach brushing up on her Arabic and studying the teachings of an oversized copy of the Koran with her lady-in-waiting, Emilia. It is presented as the story of a double assimilation: Otello’s Venetian social integration and Desdemona’s religious and cultural conversion. Her intentions initially seem to be good; her convictions seem strong. But none of that seems to last very long, at least not in this singer’s take on it. She is suddenly blowing like one of Dante’s lustful souls in the wind of an infernal storm. Repentant over Rodrigo’s and her father’s every last whim when in the subsequent scene she falls into their ambush that is framed in this production as a covert wedding.

Flimm's stark Otello on the "shore."
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lei: Jürgen Flimm’s production moves the action to the Lido, the Venetian seashore: the stage floor is surrounded by white curtains and covered in sand and rows of white Fermob chairs lined up or scattered around in different formations depending on the scene. The costumes were a hodgepodge of different eras: from nineteenth-century black and white formal wear with top hats, to black tunics with Elizabethan ruffled stiff collars and Renaissance-like armor making an appearance in the duel scenes.

Like a feather in a storm of men.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lui: Desdemona stood out among Elizabethan-looking ladies, as she was dressed in an elegant gown covered in feathers. I wondered about the symbolism of her pronounced costume. It seems that they derived her characterization from source material of the lines that are quoted in the libretto from Canto V of Dante’s Inferno: Nessun maggior dolore / che ricordarsi del tempo felice / nella miseria. And in fact like the shade of poor Francesca, this Desdemona is blown around from one man to the next between her father, Iago, Rodrigo and Otello. She is like a plaything tossed about in capriciously in the wind of these men’s whims. Which is perhaps what the loggionista was referring to when he called this Desdemona “scemaaaaa!” For a character that is usually perceived as innocent, pure and good to a fault, an interpretation that casts her as so fickle would seem to go against her most prominent traits. Her heart bleeds for everybody and she seems to go along with what every man expects of her. It’s no wonder that Otello might misinterpret her faithfulness. She is putty in everyone’s hands. To some extent the libretto leaves room for this interpretation (the famous Dante quote, her willingness to abide by the mistakes of her father, etc.). But it goes against the essence of Desdemona’s fundamental goodness. She does not come off as the portrait of consummate conviction that she usually is, but rather as a plaything of all the men. And the loggionisti in our section weren’t having it! “Listen to the score! Study the music!” they shouted.

Desdemona aflutter in the wind.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lei: Flimm’s production did not always make complete sense to me (why is he moving the finale to a futuristic looking take on NYC’s Park Avenue South with 1950s-looking billboards and characters sporting modern day clothes?) but all in all it was generally eye pleasing. At no point did it detract from the action and always allowed the drama to unfold powerfully, which is sufficient production-wise, particularly with such a great cast.

The harrowing tragedy of intolerance.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lui: For a Milan that was in the throes of an immigration crisis when we arrived just a few weeks earlier, Rossini’s Otello was a timely offering, not least of all considering its opening scene which has no analog in its Shakespearean source material. Namely the scene in which Otello asks for the reward of citizenship in exchange for his heroic deeds against the Turks on behalf of his adopted patria, Venice. Of course, the story that ensues is one of close-minded intolerance and the systematic rejection and exclusion of the newly named figlio d’Adria, which everyone knows ends in tragic hoodwinking and the deaths of the two most innocent and well-meaning characters in the whole story. What kind of message is La Scala sending here in presenting such a poignant tragedy of intolerance? Simultaneous to the gesture of acceptance from his adopted fatherland, Otello is at one and the same time rejected and excluded from the very community that has just accepted him. The conspiracy descends upon him from the highest echelon of the city, Desdemona’s father, and seconded by the slimy Iago, who here is given explicit motivation as one of Desdemona’s previously spurned lovers, and Rodrigo, here her father’s favorite suitor for the hand of his daughter.

Desdemona sings the Willow Song.
Photo credit: Matthias Baus

Lei: We had tickets in the nosebleed Galleria section and experienced first hand the ferocity of (some of) the Milanese public. Folks sitting next to us shouted furiously stuff like “Regista studia la musica!!,” or, “Questa Desdemona è scemaaa!!,” or else, “Il direttore è noioso!!,” to then launch themselves at intermission into animated soliloquies on how the opera should have been staged or sung, with an obsessive folly in their eyes that was highly entertaining to watch (if a bit scary). These people take opera not only seriously but also very personally. The booing is also a particularly La Scala phenomenon, unleashing hooligan-like shouting matches of boos and “bravi.” This time soprano Olga Peretyatko got a few boos (that only seemed to exacerbate the “brava” shouts from the majority of the public), while conductor Muhai Tang was not so lucky and was pretty much crucified by a vast portion of the audience shouting all sort of insults. The public was unanimous though in its uber-enthusiastic appreciation of tenors Juan Diego Florez and Gregory Kunde. No doubt opera still stirs wild passions (more or less justified) at La Scala, which is a great thing, still my heart goes out to all artists who dare perform in this theater.

– Lui & Lei 

Crazy for the Lady of the Lake

Rossini's La Donna del Lago

Met premiere - February 16, 2015

Elena, the beautiful lady of the lake
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met 

I am always excited when underperformed bel canto gems are brought to the spotlight, even more so if through a new Met production with a stellar cast. We got to the Met ready to be swept away by bel canto fireworks and to discover an unknown opera seria. Based on Sir Walter Scott’s 1810 poem The Lady of the Lake, Rossini’s La Donna del Lago premiered in 1819 and is truly epic in tone. One can really feel proto-Verdian touches lurking here and there, especially in its massive choruses and its patria oppressa (oppressed fatherland) themes.

Rossinian tenor fight!
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met 

While this all sounds wonderful, the plot turned out to be rather weak, with the main tensions coming from Elena being the love interest of three different men, one (Malcolm) she loves back, one (Rodrigo) is a rebel army leader her father wants her to marry, and one (Giacomo) is the King and enemy of her clan of Scots (but when we meet him he’s lost in the woods and disguised as the hunter Uberto). There is some vague theme of duty versus love but otherwise no particularly stirring passion, other than that of the three men all crazy about Elena, who remains rather distant. The best dramatic moments are when the King and Rodrigo fight over Elena and when Malcolm is suicidal because he thinks he’s losing her.

The inexplicably merciful King
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met  

The whole nationalistic theme of in-fighting among the Scottish clans is not very fleshed out and merely serves as a framing device for the love quadrangle to develop. Most irritatingly, the finale and role of king Giacomo are not very plausible: if he’s so in love with beautiful Elena and keeps popping up in a hunter’s disguise to try to kiss her and sing her nice stuff and even kills his rival Rodrigo, why on earth in the end does he act like a deus ex machina who suddenly seems to have had a change of heart and only wants to solve everyone’s problems by pardoning all and marrying Elena off to Malcolm on the spot? What’s the deal, is Malcolm any better than Rodrigo from the King’s perspective? They’re both scot warriors leading armies against the King and in love with Elena, all the reason to crash them both. Go figure. The change of heart of the King, which ultimately sets the tone for the finale and thus for the whole opera, is not justified in any way by the libretto except for the chorus blurting “Oh re clemente” (Oh merciful king), which after all his romantic frenzy and womanizing pursuit of Elena throughout the opera really does not make much sense. The theme of unconditional compromise and mercy is clear but forced and feels rushed.

Rodrigo's Scot clan ready for battle
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met 

Plot issues aside, what is particularly surprising is just how formulaic this opera seems. Because three different love interests have to be set up, Act I basically serves purely as exposition and, as a result, I found it pretty slow and even a bit dragging. The dramatic musical action only really gets going in the beginning of Act II when King James, disguised as Uberto, and his rival Rodrigo go head to head in a battle of the tenors, which is one of the first times that things get interesting musically. A weird Rossini passage, if you ask me. Musically it was exciting and more complex and multi-layered (particularly under Michele Mariotti's baton) than the more buffa works he’s more known for and there are some pretty pleasant bel canto moments, however, the opera did not feel as potent, tight and incisive as others by Rossini. Also, I found the libretto by Andrea Leone Tottola to be too stiff and formulaic, without the poetry or language depth that one finds in Rossini’s lighter fare.  

Uberto (aka King Giacomo) declares his love
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met 

The cast was very strong across the board but, surprisingly, the second tier roles as Malcolm (sung by mezzo Daniela Barcellona) and Rodrigo (by tenor John Osborn) delivered the best performances. Joyce DiDonato and Juan Diego Florez as Elena and the King were quite good but not as sensational as they can be. It felt like they were holding back a bit and not riding their roles with the extraordinary bravura, energy and confidence I’ve seen them display in the past. A couple of exceptions: Joyce killed it in her last aria Tanti affetti, that really felt like the final aria in Cenerentola both musically and content-wise; Juan Diego only brought out his A-game when battling with tenor John Osborn (Rodrigo) in the beginning of Act II. It felt like the challenge of going head to head with a similar singer propelled him to push harder. Barcellona and Osborn were more impressive, fluid and effortless, owning the Met space and attacking their roles with gusto and depth. Barcellona, in particular, delivered one of the most moving moments of the evening with her interpretation of Stelle spietate.

 

Elena and battle preps
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met 

Paul Curran’s production is essential and on the empty/sad side of things, not distracting but not terribly engaging either. Most of the opera is set on a rocky platform that serves as backdrop for Elena’s little cabin as well as for all war activities (with ample barbaric display of human heads set on poles). Where are the lush green hills of the Scottish countryside? Beats me. People talked about projections but unfortunately those were not visible to us up in first few rows of the family circle. The final scenes in the King’s castle were more spectacular with the rocky platform opening up down the center to expose a red rectangle underneath that in turn becomes the throne room providing a striking contrast between the court dressed in luminous gold and white and the poor Scottish warriors in their kilts and bloody rags.

All in all I found La Donna del Lago underwhelming, I may have been able to get beyond the weak plot and lukewarm production if the singing had been truly spectacular but, at least on this night, it simply was not.

- Lui & Lei

Cinderella, or Bel Canto Triumphant

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.

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.

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?).

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:

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. 

Daddy and his darlings: Son tutte papà
Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera

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.

Goodness always shines through
Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera 

Lui: This is obviously how most of the audience experiences the opera: frivolous and fun. But Rossini’s Cenerentola functions on two levels. The message that the audience drinks down with this bubbly beverage is a simple one, but its worth stating: goodness triumphs in the end. At every turn the librettist, Jacopo Ferretti, gives Cenerentola the opportunity to demonstrate magnanimity, generosity, kindness and forgiveness. It is her greatness in spirit that wins out in the end and the careful listener will pick up on just how forcefully this facile lesson is hammered home throughout the opera, amidst all the effulgent humor and musical inventiveness, especially at the end. The Cenerentola character is more fleshed out and multi-faceted than the rest of the cast, and this production does a particularly good job of emphasizing this aspect of the opera. Only Cinderella and the Prince appear without mime-like white powder make-up on their faces. 

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.

Cinderella magically emerging from the sea
Photo credit: Ken Howard / The Metropolitan Opera

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

Un nodo avviluppato
Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera

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.

Dream Meets Reality

Bellini’s La Sonnambula

Met - April 1, 2014

I have never seen Bellini’s La Sonnambula performed “straight,” that is to say, in a traditional way, but I suspect I may find it flat after having discovered this opera through Mary Zimmerman’s production when it premiered in 2009. This was my third time seeing it and I continue to like it quite a lot, especially since it fleshes out and refreshes an otherwise pretty linear and not particularly exciting or dynamic story, all while expanding on its themes.

Diana Damrau stars as the star of the show
Photo credit: Marty Sohl 

The plot is very simple: village boy and girl are about to get married. Girl happens to be a sleepwalker and ends up in the bed of another man. Boy throws a jealous fit and calls off the wedding. Girl is heartbroken because she did not do anything wrong and really, really loves boy. Once the sleepwalking misunderstanding is cleared up everybody returns to their lovey-dovey selves again and all ends well.

The dreamer on set at rehearsal
Photo credit: Marty Sohl 

Zimmerman stages Bellini’s work in the rehearsal room of an opera company preparing a La Sonnambula performance. The production notes tell us that the story, actions and characters of the village are all coincident with those of the rehearsal room. This blurred line between reality and art (that is itself double faced – “rehearsal” vs. “Met” performance) raises questions of what is art and how life is influenced by it and vice versa. Since there is no distinct difference between the two, the viewer is kept wondering if she is seeing the opera or “real life.” This riffs on other contrasting themes of the original opera, such as the different perceptions of the same reality by the “awake” and the “sleepwalker” and the tension between what you see and what you believe. In many ways, the public of Zimmerman’s production experiences the same doubts and confusion of the opera’s characters, not knowing whether to fully believe what it sees is part of the show or part of the characters’ reality.

The chorus rebels
Photo credit: Richard Perry, NYTimes

Among the several hilariously entertaining bits, I particularly liked the anarchic frenzy at the end of act one when the chorus members/villagers think Amina has been spending the night with the count. They all give up on the rehearsal and start trashing costumes and destroying scores, even trying to pull the prompter’s (and the prompter himself) out of the hole, as if to say “if this is the way things are going we don’t like it and we don’t want to be a part of it anymore! We want chaste virtuous Adina, not this double-faced trollop!”

Diana Damrau dreams 
Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera

Diana Damrau carried the show, being there and having fun, showcasing great acting and sense of humor – she even cartwheeled in the finale and at curtain call! Her singing was sensational, with light trills, piercing pure sound, ranging from the sweetest tone to the more cheerful energetic bel canto – just they way a coloratura soprano should be (though she can also do Verdi pretty wonderfully too).

Tenor Taylor Stayton was disappointing, even more so because the 2 prior times I saw this opera Alvino was played by Juan Diego Florez (who is perfect for this type of role). Stayton’s Alvino was shrill, lacked warmth and expressiveness and even his acting was bland – really showing that bel canto should either be done right or not at all.

Michele Pertusi and Rachelle Durkin share an intimate moment
Photo credit: The Metropolitan Opera

Baritone Michele Pertusi as Count Rodolfo was solid, with commanding acting and a warm, deep sound. Soprano Rachelle Durkin was an awkward and goofy Lisa but her slapstick acting worked with the character and all in all sang well.

La Sonnambula showcases the chorus way more than other bel canto operas and the Met chorus really shined, not only with great singing, but also having fun with Zimmerman’s production and playing a key role in emphasizing the theater within the theater side of it.

Damrau dances a joyful jig 
Photo credit: Jonathan Tichler / The Metropolitan Opera 

The finale is an uplifting celebration of all the confusion that has just transpired. Everybody ends up in costume as though they’ve finally stepped out of the rehearsal room onto the “real” Met stage to perform the show they’ve been preparing for. Except, in the very moment that all the different realities are meant to collide, the scenery breaks up and the illusion of the rehearsal room and the Met stage is laid bare. All is dream, all is reality.

– Lei & Lui

Evvivan gli sposi!
Photo credit: Jonathan Tichler / The Metropolitan Opera