Rossini’s Two Faces

Rossini’s L’italiana in Algeri (1813)

Metropolitan Opera

October 15, 2016

The bey has eyes for any and every dame
Photo credit: Met Opera

Going into Rossini’s L’italiana in Algeri, I was ready for some pure escapist entertainment. It is, after all, Rossini in all of his early opera buffa glory. What I didn't brace myself for was the absolute timeliness of the piece. In it, an ultra wealthy man abuses his power and status to grope and fondle any woman he wishes. The plot was all too close to the scene unfolding on the national political stage.

The production takes us back to the good old days with Ponnelle
Photo credit: Met Opera

But it was still an unplug-and-have-fun kind of evening, nevertheless. Just let the music and vocal acrobatics wash over you. Silly, yes, but so pleasurable. Like a bubbly, exotic cocktail you can’t get enough of. The Met’s long-standing easy-breezy production dates back to the more traditional (but no less boisterous) days of the great Jean-Pierre Ponnelle. It is minimal enough in its period detail to provide many fluid changes of scene, but the elephantine stage felt too big for the charming scale of the mad-capped action.

Ildar steals the show with his sultanesque shenanigans
Photo credit: Met Opera

The outstanding Russian baritone Ildar Abdrazakov as the bey Mustafà stole the show – not only was he hilarious, but he sounded great too. He literally chewed the scenery to shreds with his zany take on the crazy sultan, right down to his feverish finale as a new recruit to the ranks of the illustrious Pappataci. I've never seen such an energetic performance on stage at the Met. He was straight out of a cartoon and clearly having a lot of fun playing the self-absorbed, sex-driven, capricious, exuberant bey.

Lindoro holds fast to his romantic ties
Photo credit: Met Opera

Tenor René Barbera filled his role as the pining lover Lindoro with warmth and grace (which was particularly appreciated after hearing the tenor in Tell). His Languir per una bella caught me off guard as it often does – the tender hearted nucleus of the first act that it is. So nice.

Soprano Marianna Pizzolato was vocally solid too, though she seemed to be missing that certain sparkle and maybe came off bit too matronly, though in many regards she is the one figure who actually grounds the piece. The other three male leads are merely satellites in orbit around her gravitational pull. So the matronly may not be entirely misguided.

The matronly gravitational center of the piece exerts her pull
Photo credit: Met Opera

You could not help but smile and often just burst into bellyful laughs. Billed as Rossini’s first big breakout piece, L’italiana is truly irresistible bel canto. I rather prefer Il turco in Italia – with its more dynamic, less schematic plot – but come on, really, who can resist Rossini when he’s at his opera buffa best?

It's back to the beloved patria for these wayward souls
Photo credit: Met Opera 

* * *

Rossini’s Guillaume Tell (1829)

Metropolitan Opera

October 21, 2016

Time for a very dramatic change of pace, but this is still Rossini
Photo credit: Met Opera

Less than a week later and we found ourselves back at the Met for another helping of Rossini's genius. After seeing his first big hit, it was time to see the last opera he would ever compose, the august and profoundly dramatic, Guillaume Tell. You really couldn't conjure a starker opposition. These two operas are really like night and day.

The Met’s new production by Pierre Audi was neither here nor there. Guillaume Tell is a timeless story about a marginalized people rising up against oppression but the costumes were all over the place and made it distracting to really get into the emotions of this story that is so full of hope. Guillaume looked like Obi Wan Kenobi from the initial Star Wars franchise and together with the abstract sets it seemed like maybe they were going for a sparse modern Druid à la Norma kind of thing, in Ikea-looking raw lumber framed houses. But then some bits were futuristic. Costumes ran the gamut from Shakespearean wench to nineteenth-century garden-party dandy to dominatrix to Nazi officer. Then all of a sudden the world was divided into those who wear linen and those who wear black leather. The whole thing was hard to pin down. With visual touches that were added as mere symbols like the hull of the boat that recalls the shape of the bow that Tell will use to save the day. All in all, the production did very little for me.

The new production is all Star Wars meets Ikea
Photo credit: Met Opera

In the title role, Canadian bass-baritone Gerard Finley came out a little cold for me. He didn't have the forceful muscularity that I look for in his duet Ou vais tu in the first act. His accompaniment should give Arnauld a basso ostinato ground that is deep and full against which the young lover can dance his fanciful ear-candy melody. It is one of my favorite duets in the opera, not least of all because it bears certain similarities with a number from Rossini’s earlier Otello, which I rank as one of the greatest overlooked gems at the top of his oeuvre. But by Act III, Finley had warmed up. His Sois immobile (to his son, right before aiming at the famous apple) was extremely moving.

The lovers meet across enemy lines
Photo credit: Met Opera

Soprano Marina Rebekah as Mathilda was out of this world. She is bright and agile and strikes a commanding stage presence. Tenor Bryan Hymel may have been proficient technically but he has a high-pitched sound that I found grating and annoying. I cringed when he opened his mouth for most of the evening. It sounded like he had a frog stuck in his throat. Maybe it wasn't his night, though he seemed to be quite warmly received by the rest of the audience. He really wasn't doing it for me.

It's all linen versus leather, all of a sudden
Photo credit: Met Opera

Rossini’s use of the chorus is utterly striking. In the first half of the opera the chorus is all hippie happy in their celebration of their provincial lifestyle as an open-air mountain loving people. The joy is palpable in those first movements, which is what makes it extra poignant that Rossini’s third act ballet takes the form of an exhibition of dominatrixes and domination. The female cronies of the Habsburg tyrant lash and whip the poor peasants forcing them to party till they drop. The palpable choral joy of the previous acts gets pushed to exhaustion, crisis and collapse. Many people sitting in our section thought it was too long, overly extravagant, done to death. But that is exactly the point. Rossini very effectively does the poor oppressed peasants to death.

Tell puts young love in its revolutionary place
Photo credit: Met Opera

As the great bel canto composer’s swan song, Guillaume Tell is grandiose, complex, deep. It's hard to believe that less than two decades later Tell could come from the same pen that produced L’italiana in Algeri. Little Gioachino is all grown up. There are just so many more layers at play here. Melody and vocal acrobatics are not just virtuosic ends in themselves but are actually used to express emotions and to tell a compelling story of profound socio-political importance. Its pervasive nationalistic sentiment provides another link to a brief jingoistic interlude toward the end of L’italiana in Algeri. The same spirit will go on to pervade the works of the later Verdi as well. In fact, Rossini’s use of the chorus as a true character of the opera made me think of some of the innovations Verdi brings to his haunting and unique Giovanna D’Arco.

Sois immobile! In other words: Be still!
Photo credit: Met Opera

And of course the Tell overture is such a blockbuster and so much fun and electrifying, that I could just not sit still. So much so that when it was pouring rain after the show, we had to forego our usual stroll home and took the subway instead. On the platform, the resident sax player was bringing down the post-show house by playing bits from that very same overture, which was more joyous fun. I was still shaking it to the endlessly recycled melodies of Rossini’s immortal genius.

All in all, the opera was very long but it was nevertheless pretty action packed so it never felt weighed down. Actually, the first act kind of sets the stage and after that there was a whole slew of plot developments that kept me on the edge of my seat. So much going on in the narrative, so many musical ideas and so much dramatic tension. It is a very enjoyable opera. I only wish the production delivered on its new Met production promise.

– Lei & Lui

The last will be first.
Photo credit: Met Opera

The apple of daddy's eye
Photo credit: Met Opera

Evil is really, really evil in this one
Photo credit: Met Opera

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.