Stuck Between a Count and a Pirate

Bellini’s Il Pirata

Bel Canto at Caramoor

Venetian Theater

July 8, 2017

Imogene and the pirate who washed back into her life
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

For the twentieth and final year of the celebrated Bel Canto at Caramoor series, Will Crutchfield and his team brought us Bellini’s Il Pirata. The orchestra and extraordinary cast sounded so wonderful that it is a yearly appointment that will be sorely missed. The opera here will continue. Handel’s Atalanta is already on the books for next year we’re told. So the picnics in this bucolic wonderland will continue, but Crutchfield’s intellectually stimulating curatorial efforts will be hard to replace.

Over the years that we have followed his work with the summer festival at Caramoor we have learned a lot about the evolution of Rossini’scompositional style due to his work with a castrato, the influence of Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia on Verdi’s Rigoletto and so much more.

The woman who lies at the center of it all
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

Bellini’s opera may be called Il Pirata but the drama all lies in the heroine. It is the story of her impossible love, which comes down to a matter of principle. In order to save her father from prison, she consented to a loveless marriage with Ernesto, the Count of Caldora. The man she once loved, the eponymous pirate Gualtiero, has been absent for some time.

Until one day he and his pirates wash ashore near her castle in Sicily.

The open and honest emotions of a woman who is sure of herself
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

What is striking is how forthcoming she is about the whole intersection of circumstances not only with Gualtiero but also with her husband Ernesto. When confronted about her sudden emotional distance from him in Act II, she very frankly says “Yeah, I love him but in the way one might love a dead man.” It’s impossible for her now. Since when did such adult composure of emotion and mind pass for romance? Incredible! “L’amo come uom sepolto,” she says to her husband at this crucial point.

The tragedy is all hers. But that doesn’t mean that Ernesto takes this news like a big boy. Oh no, he gets all fired up in a conniption fit of jealousy and perhaps most surprisingly of all, things don’t end well for him.

Some husbands are more understanding of adult feelings than others
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

Act II opens strong and moving with this marital confrontation. The singing was exceptional, as we have come to expect from Crutchfield and his crew at Caramoor where four years ago we discovered Donizetti’s gem of an opera Lucrezia Borgia along with star soprano of night, Angela Meade. And what a night it was.

With Lucrezia in mind, I braced myself for a hearty duel between man and wife, a fight to the death. But surprisingly no such face off materialized in this second act opener. They launch into their duet and just when you expect explosive bel canto fireworks, Imogene refrains from going for the jugular (as Lucrezia did) and instead opts for adult frankness. Unbelievable! She embodies all the values of maturity, honesty, sincerity. The opera should bear her name rather than the poor wayward pirate. This is all about her, Imogene, a woman of principle.

Santiago Ballerini is a rising star
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

Soprano Robyn Marie Lamp as Imogene’s companion, Adele, came out high and bold and strong. She buoyed Angela Meade’s sound beautifully.

Bass Harold Wilson as the “villain” Duke of Caldora, Ernesto, was a commanding deep-chested presence who was at once also redemptively fresh. It begged the question of just how bad could this guy be. Though he blackmailed his wife into marrying him, musically he wasn’t necessarily vilified through and through. As a result, dramatically it leaves something to be desired, no matter how many moments it presents musically, which may explain its lukewarm presence in the canon.

Tenor Santiago Ballerini as the pirate Gualteir0 really shined. His instrument has a brightness that sparkles. Most remarkably of all in tonight’s performance, he had a delicacy in the tender moments that were precious without being cloying. We have the singer, as well as conductor Will Crutchfield to thank for that, I reckon.

Vying for pole position at the emotional core of the opera
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

The pirate was no doubt right there at the emotional core of the show, but it was without a doubt soprano Angela Meade who took the night. As the tragic heroine Imogene, she showcased her flexible, emotionally moving instrument. She was a force of nature as I expected her to be. She was chesty and agile. She has a big expansive sound especially when devouring Bellini’s meaty, long musical lines. Her madness scene was a real treat. Sole, ti veli was a climax worthy of the distinction. She ate up the silent moments with a heartbreaking emotional insanity. With her husband gone and her old flame condemned to death and her father long dead, so little remains in the balance. At this point, this is really no question as to whether or not the tragedy is all hers.

An extraordinary cast coupled with a breathtaking performance from the orchestra made this a night to be remembered. Mr. Crutchfield, we will miss you at Caramoor.

– Lui & Lei

Onwards and upwards with Will Crutchfield, but not forgotten
Photo credit: Gabe Palacio

Norma Takes Los Angeles

Bellini’s Norma

Los Angeles Opera

December 10, 2015

Norma has Pollione right where she wants him.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

This holiday season we decided to pack in some extra opera travel. First up was a trip to California to catch Bellini’s Norma at L.A. Opera, starring the much raved about Meade-Barton duo (that we missed at the Met in 2013 as they were the second cast). Opera going in L.A. is a unique experience, especially for car-averse NYC residents. While we had a vehicle, we parked it 6 blocks away from the opera house so that we could grab dinner at one of the few inspiring restaurants within a decent distance from the venue (Little Sister – delicious). That was a bad decision as six L.A. blocks are definitely not as pedestrian friendly as the equivalent in New York, particularly if half of that is on a steep hill (and one of us is wearing jeweled high heels and it’s suddenly raining – isn’t California going through a drought?!?). But we could not afford to risk driving to the show, not find a parking spot nearby and miss the beginning of the opera! Once we got to the opera house, albeit flustered and soaked, we took in the spectacular setting as this particular stretch of North Grand Avenue is packed with majestic yet thrillingly modern buildings (the MOCA, the Walt Disney Concert Hall, the most recent fantastic-looking museum, The Broad, and, of course, L.A. Opera), lending this stretch the air of a grandiose canyon of culture.

Norma occupies a sacred place all her own.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

Once inside where it was dry, the opening bars of the overture whisked us away to Bellini-land. Norma is truly one of the most complex and multi-faceted female characters. Throughout the narrative arc of the opera she navigates her issues in her role as a mother (almost kills her kids to spite her ex-lover), daughter (hides her relationship and kids from her father), priestess (breaches all vows to her gods), lover (humiliated by her man), mentor (betrayed by her naive mentee) and political leader (decides to wage war or not depending on the ups and downs of her private love interest). After all her mistakes, though, Norma’s final repentance and self-immolation in atonement redeem her and transform her journey into a most humanly cathartic and tragically empowering story. Opera rarely gets better than this.

Norma transitions into her domestic self.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

The spectrum of emotions of Norma is so broad and the bel canto vocal demands to express them so challenging that there are very few singers in the world capable to tackle this soprano assoluta role. Soprano Angela Meade is one of them and she delivered a terrific performance, riding the emotional rollercoaster of the Druid priestess with control, agility and fire. While I was not blown away by her Casta Diva (accurate but lukewarm), Meade really rose to the challenge from Oh rimembranza onwards, i.e. when Norma discovers Pollione betrayed her with Adalgisa. From that moment on, her emotional temperature rose and kept rising throughout, Meade’s Norma shined best when she got angry and released her fury. Her singing was electric, expressing waves of rage and hurt that kept the audience on the edge of their seats. Meade’s ability to switch from swooningly tender to thunderously furious was impressive. This soprano perfectly embodied Norma’s conflict between private feelings and public power, which is the essence of Norma’s “soprano assoluta” character. I found Meade’s acting improved, too. This production did not have her move much but she mastered small expressive gestures with high impact (such as disdainfully refusing Adalgisa’s touch at the end of Act I or else throwing the child-murdering-dagger away in Act II).  

A little girl talk with her protégée Adalgisa (right).
Photo credit: L.A. Opera 

Mezzo Jamie Barton as Adalgisa was mesmerizing. I expected her to be great but the liquid velvet of her voice and her magnetic stage presence were quite extraordinary. When Adalgisa made her entrance with her first aria Sgombra è la selva, she embodied young naive love torn between pleasure and duty with a freshness and a bright eyed joy that was utterly moving. Not only are Barton’s vocal control and agility impressive (particularly when she switches swiftly from low to high register), but her acting chops are pretty serious too, from her facial expressions to her body language, she truly is a complete artist. Her charisma is special, she is one of those singers who manages to hook you right at the chest and draw you into the beautiful melody she’s singing, leaving you hypnotized and content. This mezzo’s sound is plush and seductive by itself, but when intertwined with Meade’s creamy soprano in the many Norma/Adalgisa duets, it was pure operatic bliss, the air vibrated and the result was insanely beautiful.

Adalgisa opens up space and time.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

There were a couple of revelations tonight. Jamie Barton was definitely one of them. Finally seeing her live did not disappoint. Vocally the colors of her mezzo soprano are utterly unique. I wasn’t ready for her fresh, bright sound. It has a throaty fullness. She came across so clear and strong and her enunciation in Italian was always solid. But what really struck me was her singing stage presence. She really opened up certain moments with confidence the way she really slowed down, took her time in unfolding the story of her love affair with Pollione, really savoring the emotions of the moment musically. This is a transcendent quality for a singer of her young age to possess. It’s diva quality but she doesn’t exude any of the other haughty star qualities. She seems so down to earth.

Pollione in the moving finale.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

Tenor Russell Thomas was another of the revelations of the night. Not only did he prove me wrong on my “tenor famine” theory but he also led me to see the Pollione character in a radical new light. Thomas’ sound is powerful and manly yet warm, ardent and desperate yet round with feeling, and he can hit his high notes with the heroic certainty of a Roman general. His performance during the final act, in particular, moved me to tears. When are you ever supposed to feel for Pollione? He is the perfect male jerk, shallow, fickle, always going for the younger woman, here today, gone tomorrow, faithless, in denial of his fatherhood. But when he is sung with feeling and pathos, the finale takes on another twist. His downfall suddenly becomes moving. When Pollione finally sees Norma’s greatness (she acknowledges her own hypocrisy, spares Adalgisa, saves her kids and faces bravely death by fire for her own mistakes), he falls in love with her all over again:

Ah! Troppo tardi t’ho conosciuta!
Sublime donna, io t’ho perduta!
Col mio rimorso è amor rinato,
Più disperato, furente egli è!
Moriamo insieme, ah, sì, moriamo!
L’estremo accento sarà ch’io t’amo.
Ma tu morendo, non m’abborrire,
Pria di morire, perdona a me!

The intensity of Thomas’ rendition of this particular moment was raw, desperate and heartwarming, changing forever the way I think about Pollione. When in the right hands, Bellini’s music really redeems him, too, at the end. When he comes around and recognizes again his love for Norma and they go hand in hand to their shared funeral pyre, they truly go down in a blaze of glory. It was all thanks to Thomas’s visceral embodiment of Pollione. He was just that moving.

Ite sul colle, o Druidi!
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

Oroveso was played by Bass Morris Robinson, a big man with a big thundering voice. I was particularly moved by his final duet with Norma when he switches from furious (she hid from him her relationship with the enemy not to mention her offspring) to moved (he’s a grandpa!).

Priestesses grace the stage.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

When it comes to director Anne Bogart’s choices, however, I was not too impressed. The sets were dominated by a hilly hardwood floor, with a corporate-looking building on the right (symbolizing the Roman force of order and conquest) and a bunch of ill-arranged pieces of lumber vaguely recalling a forest of two-by-fours propping up the left wall (representing the fortress of the nature-loving Druids, I suppose, though looking more like an Ikea advertisement). In the middle there was a circular space used for the Casta Diva ritual and Norma’s family time with her kids. Nothing too exciting except for the use of lighting with the moon rising during the war chorus Guerra guerra! (chorus that, incidentally, lacked the necessary fire).

Costumes were uneven, with the two leading ladies wearing wonderful gowns with jeweled corsets but the rest of the Druids were really in rags. Also, why on earth Pollione was sporting a nineteenth-century military coat and his wingmen traditional Roman armor and red capes? Finally, quite some time was spent on choreographies by a group of lovely dancers, however the dance numbers did not really work with the rest of the staging, and looked more like an afterthought.

Invocation of the moon. Awaiting the war cry.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

But, when the cast and the orchestra (lead by maestro James Colon) are so sensational, these production missteps are really minor flaws as they did not detract to an otherwise spectacular and all too rare performance of this Bellini masterpiece.

– Lui & Lei

Full moon on the rise.
Photo credit: L.A. Opera

________________________________

* Too late, too late

I have known you –

Sublime woman, I lost you,

With my remorse Love is reborn,

A madder, more desperate love.

Let us die together, yes, let us die:

My last word will be that I love you.

But you, in dying, must not hate me.

Before you die, forgive me.  

A Donizetti Diamond in the Rough

Lucrezia Borgia (1833)

Gaetano Donizetti

Caramoor Opera (Bel Canto at Caramoor)

July 12, 2014

The Italian Pavilion at Caramoor
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

Lei: After being blown away by Roberto Devereux at Carnegie Hall last month, it was a pleasure to discover yet another rarely performed Donizetti gem at the Caramoor Bel Canto festival. We got to Katonah in the early afternoon so we had time to enjoy the gorgeous Italian-style gardens dotted with modern sound installations, attend intriguing panel discussions that fleshed out topics such as Victor Hugo in opera and Donizetti’s influence on Verdi, listen to a pleasant bel canto recital by the Caramoor young artists program and leisurely picnic in a bucolic setting feeling very much like Manet’s Dejeuner sur l’herbe. By the time we got to the evening performance we were already bewitched by Caramoor’s charms, and their Lucrezia Borgia conducted by a high energy Will Crutchfield only made things better.

Lui: The opera’s plot is a tight succession of juicy dramatic tableaux that revolve around the anti-heroine Lucrezia Borgia: a fierce and reckless ruler with a penchant for disposing of her enemies with poisoned wine. Hated by many but possessively adored by Alfonso D’Este, her current jealous husband, Lucrezia kindles a motherly affection for her illegitimate son, Gennaro, who, of course, loathes the Borgias. Little does he know that he too is descended of that line. As in other Donizetti operas, the tension between the leading lady’s public role (as bloody ruler) and her private sentiments (as tender mother) creates explosive drama.

Mother and son in full cry

Lei: The duets between Lucrezia and her son Gennaro are often heart wrenching, particularly in the Prologue, when he confides in her his desire to be reunited with the mother he has never known (“Io non la vidi mai”). In Act I, when Gennaro is in trouble for having vandalized the “Borgia” sign (by removing the “B” and leaving “Orgia”), he prays to his unknown mother, who is simultaneously being coerced into poisoning him, only to immediately remedy that by administering an antidote. These mother-son exchanges culminate in the final scene, when Lucrezia reveals his identity to him (“Un Borgia sei”) and begs him not to commit matricide (“Ti risparmio un fallo orrendo, il tuo sangue non versar”). As in Verdi’s Rigoletto, likewise based on a play by Hugo (and conveniently paired Lucrezia Borgia in this year’s Caramoor program), Lucrezia’s vendetta backfires in a highly tragic finale where she ends up killing her own son, having poisoned him (again!) but with no time to save him.

Bosom buddies: Gennaro and Orsini

Lui: Who knows why this action packed and fiery pseudo-historical drama isn’t performed more often. In 1904 when the Metropolitan Opera last gave it a day at court, with no less than Enrico Caruso in the role of Gennaro, a reviewer for the New York Times brusquely wrote it off. Some say its because it lacks a central love interest. After the title character, Maffio Orsini occupies the center of the opera. Orsini is a dynamic trouser role composed to be sung by a mezzo-soprano. His/her arias were among the highlights of the night, starting with “Nella fatal di Rimini,” the first aria of the opera. The Orsini character occupies the same narrative and emotional space that the Duke occupies in Rigoletto. In his respect, rather than a love interest, this particular Hugo play (and Donzietti’s treatment of it) emphasizes the theme of male camaraderie. The strength of the bond between the two is particularly evident early in Act II, when Gennaro is about to leave (and thus escape death) but Orsini, deeply offended by his friend’s parting, convinces him to stay because their destinies are tied together. Their duet at the end of this specific scene is emotionally charged with joyful love, as is the libretto:

ORSINI E GENNARO
Sia qual vuolsi il tuo destino, 
Esso è mio: lo giuro ancora.

ORSINI
Mio Gennaro!

GENNARO
Caro Orsino!

ORSINI E GENNARO
Teco sempre ... o viva, o mora. 
Qual due fiori a un solo stelo, 
Qual due fronde a un ramo sol,

ORSINI
Noi vedremo sereno il cielo.

GENNARO
O saremo curvati al suol.*

Likening their affectionate bond to two flowers on one stem and two leaves on one branch, Orsini and Gennaro embody the classical ideal of friendship as the sharing of one soul in bodies twain. It is a moving moment in the score and occupies the space that would otherwise be reserved for a romantic subplot. Perhaps good, old-fashioned friendship does not appeal to audiences in quite the same way as a steamy love story. There is real feeling between Orsini and Gennaro, just as there seems to be between Gilda and the Duke in Verdi’s masterpiece.  

Lei: Rigoletto’s musical similarities with Lucrezia Borgia are astonishing, so much that I thought at many points: “This sounds so Verdian,” while of course I should have rather said that Verdi sounds “Donizettian.” The first time I heard Orsini’s drinking song, for example, I immediately thought about the opening party scene in Rigoletto, and that is just one of many passages that resonated with an anxiety of influence. The plots of the two operas also have a lot of common themes, which should not come as a surprise since both operas are based on Victor Hugo plays (Lucrèce Borgia and Le roi s’amuse). The infausto vaticinio by a cavaliere who prophesies that Orsini and Gennaro will die together and that they should beware the Borgias is not so different from Monterone’s maledizione. The tender duets between Lucrezia and her son Gennaro are poignantly reminiscent of those between Rigoletto and his daughter Gilda. Donizetti’s leading lady is as morally crooked as Rigoletto is physically deformed. The lurking spy Gubetta finds his echo in the shady assassin Sparafucile. And the list could go on.

Husband and wife go head to head

Lei: It was a semi-staged show with the orchestra on stage and the singers in the foreground in eveningwear and doing only a bit of acting. All performers were so stellar that I did not miss costumes and scenes but, rather, could focus entirely on the music and the drama, also thanks to the excellent acoustics of the Venetian theater. All singers had excellent Italian diction so I was not even distracted by the supertitles.

Christophoros Stamboglis sings Alfonso d'Este

Lui: One of the musical highlights of the night was the epic confrontation in Act II, in which soprano Angela Meade’s Lucrezia Borgia and bass Christophoros Stamboglis’s Duke of Ferrara go head to head over whether or not to poison Gennaro. In their ferocious singing they really brought the power struggle between headstrong husband and wife savagely to life. It was without a doubt one of the most vivid musical moments of the evening. Even though it was only a semi-staged show, both singers really let themselves get carried away with the emotions of the scene and together they achieved the kind of intensity of heightened emotion that only truly talented interpreters/singers of great opera can achieve. When Lucrezia reminds her husband that he better be careful since she’s a Borgia with a track record of getting rid of her spouses, Meade was all fangs and barbed threats. Her musical rage was scaring, in a crescendo of regal fury that literally made the air vibrate and the public gasp.

Angela Meade as Lucrezia Borgia

Lei: Angela Meade’s Lucrezia was on fire. Her voice has sheer power and agility, commanding bel canto fireworks but also delivering extraordinarily tender moments. Her range and expressivity were impressive. In her opening aria, while she laments that everybody hates her (“m’aborre ognuno”) and lovingly contemplates her sleeping son, Meade was profoundly lyrical and moving. This soprano is getting better every time I see her and I cannot wait to see her again. Her schedule will bring her back to New York for Guglielmo Tell (Carnegie Hall, December), Verdi’s Requiem (NY Philharmonic, January) and Ernani (Met, March/April).

Tamara Mumford

Michele Angelini

Mezzo-soprano TamaraMumford as Orsini was a revelation. She was high energy and embodied the male role with sass, wearing tight black pants, stilettos and a sexy white tuxedo jacket. The intensity of her acting matched her singing while she perfectly delivered the many layers of the Orsini role: from his chilling opening monologue that so succinctly sets the tone for the evil streak that runs through everything Borgia (“dov’è Lucrezia è morte”), to tender friendship moments with Gennaro, to the joyful drinking songs that open and close the opera. While reading Mumford’s biography I realized that we actually saw her before at the Met (singing smaller roles like Smeaton in Anna Bolena and Margaret in Wozzeck), Orsini is definitely a beefier part, that put this mezzo-soprano front and center and really allowed us to appreciate her.

Tenor Michele Angelini brought freshness to his portrayal of Gennaro. Although he was a bit dwarfed by the ladies’ firepower at the beginning, he warmed up after the first act and grew stronger throughout the opera. As an actor he embodied the right blend of arrogance and naiveté. Despite being an orphan who is a bit lost in the world, he is also at the same time independent minded and relatively sure of himself. Angelini brought out several of this character’s many layers.

  

Joseph Charles Beutel

Hans Tashjian

Zachary Altman

There was really not a weak link to be found, right down to the minor characters. Bass-baritone JosephCharles Beutel had great stage presence and a deep, well-rounded tone as Lucrezia’s spy Gubetta. His singing particularly raged in the fiery confrontation with Orsini in Act II. Baritone Zachary Altman had probably five minutes tops on stage as Astolfo (another villain at La Borgia’s service), and in so little time he was bewitching, extremely charismatic, with very clear diction and deep, expressive singing, that kept me on the edge of my seat – definitely a singer to look out for. Another artist that had limited but excellent stage presence was bass Hans Tashjian (as Don Apostolo Gazella, one of the anti-Borgia fellas), whom we discovered last year in dell’Arte Opera Ensemble’s L’incoronazione di Poppea and will look forward to seeing again in that same company’s Macbeth later this summer.

– Lei & Lui

The Sunken Garden at Caramoor
Photo credit: Allegri con Fuoco

* O thy fortune, whatever it may be, / Shall be mine, again I swear it, / Life or death, together we share it. / My Gennaro / Dear Orsini / Twin-born flowers, in union growing, / Twin-born leaflets upon a branch, / We show one smile, if summer be glowing, / ‘Neath the tempest we equally blanch.