Fireworks Get Visceral in Rossini's Otello

Rossini’s Otello

LoftOpera

Lightspace Studios, Brooklyn

March 25, 2017

Rossini fireworks with feeling
Photo credit: Robert Altman

When we discovered Rossini’s Otello at La Scala a couple of years ago, we came out pretty exhilarated by all that testosterone in its bel canto form (we were lucky to get the stellar Kunde-Florez tenor duo), but were not particularly moved by the Desdemona character (Peretyatko) nor by the overall opera per se. At the time we were still believers that Rossini usually has a dazzling effect, yes, but his operas are hardly ever truly emotionally gut-wrenching.

LoftOpera’s production of this same work changed my mind forever about Rossini’s soul-stirring powers. By the time the performance was over on Saturday night, I was an emotional wreck, weeping inconsolably. I came out of the venue pretty distraught after crying for good part of Act III. This time, in addition to the expected bel canto vocal fireworks, visceral dramatic tension built up throughout the performance, and really exploded in the last act, culminating in the chilling finale.   

Explosive drama comes home in Rossini's Otello
Photo credit: Robert Altman

Even in the improbable hands of the tuneful Rossini, this particular performance delivered the inevitability of Shakespearean tragedy with a force that knocked me off my feet and left me feeling desperately sorry for the characters who were unable to save themselves. This type of cathartic and deeply human experience is the ultimate reason why we go to the opera.

Rossini’s version of Il Moro di Venezia is very rarely performed. Having been eclipsed by Verdi’s take on the same material, it is also very difficult to line up a cast capable of tackling it. The opera requires really at least three solid bel canto lyric tenors, one agile bass and one extraordinary soprano. Being so rare, it is also hard to find singers who know it. The cast lined up by LoftOpera was impressive, strong throughout and with unbelievable peaks (Desdemona, Otello and Iago). Remarkably, this performance was a terrific role debut for everybody on stage. In addition to inhabiting their characters masterfully and tackling the difficult bel canto score, all of the singers displayed excellent Italian diction, so much that I did not have to look at supertitles at all – virtually unheard of with non-native speakers.

Iago oversees the battle of the tenors
Photo credit: Siobahn Sung

One of my favorite features of this opera is the over-abundance of tenors constantly battling and out-singing each other, in a display of bel canto manliness that can be a true treat. Bernard Holcomb was an excellent Otello, with clean musicality and effortless high notes. The title role is a particularly demanding one and Holcomb effectively displayed the ample range of colors and emotions required, from triumphant heroism to belligerent jealousy, from defeated heartbreak to defiant resolution and destructive desperation. Holcomb’s tenor is strong and manly but also has a graceful freshness, a purity even, that brought Otello’s vulnerability, innocence and ultimate humanity to the fore.

Blake Friedman was a sensational Iago, with a fluid, warm and beautiful sound, which made his innate evilness all the more treacherous. His acting, though, left absolutely no doubt about his character being the villain and mastermind pulling all the strings to trigger the drama. He was a real smooth operator with his blond hair slicked back and his three piece suit and ascot always looking the part. Apparently channeling Steve Bannon, Friedman carried himself with deliberately slow and calculated movements, which he endowed with a sardonic, unctuous mellifluousness. His stage presence was so commanding that it was impossible to take your eyes off him every time he was on. Vocally, one of his most memorable moments was the duet with Otello in Act II (L’ira d’avverso fato), one of those delicious and exhilarating battles of tenors that make this opera so enjoyable.

Rodrigo seizes his slimy opportunity
Photo credit: Robert Altman

As Rodrigo, Thor Arbjornsson delivered a solid and competent performance. His tenor is very high, but with nasal and metallic undertones, that gave an interesting spin to his character, almost snarly at times (which is at odds with the nature of his music but works with the character, especially since he effectively plots with Iago against Otello). Arbjornsson does not have a big or particularly swooning voice, but the intimate venue worked in his favor and his technique was spot on as he tackled the most show stopping and challenging arias in the whole opera. He was at his best in the pleading Ah come mai non senti / pietà dei miei tormenti, and his thrilling duet with Otello, Ah vieni nel tuo sangue.  

Last but not least in the tenor roster, John Ramseyer was an unbelievable gondolier - a minor but important character who sings for probably two minutes tops. When he appeared in a ghostly Venetian mask and delivered his canzone, he had a lyrical gravitas that exuded longing and nostalgia, with a heartbreaking depth that left the audience gasping (and this writer crying). It was one of those magical moments when time stopped as Act III switched to a more intimate and reflective mood. Nessun maggior dolore / che ricordarsi del tempo felice nella miseria (there’s no greater pain / than remembering happy times during miserable ones). The verses are lifted verbatim from the tale of the doomed lovers Paolo and Francesca in Dante’s Inferno and, as used by Rossini, trigger Desdemona’s ultimate descent into the darker, lonelier side of the opera.

The tenors triangulate around one object: Desdemona
Photo credit: Robert Altman

All of the tenors were impressive, but with them alone Otello is just another Rossinian display of bel canto fireworks. The singer who truly stole the show, becoming the beating, emotional heart of the opera was Cecilia Violetta Lopez. Hers is a beautiful, warm soprano that mastered Desdemona’s demanding and multi-layered bel canto role, carrying every duet, trio and ensemble piece with effortless grace, lyric power and agility. She absolutely owned her show-stopping solo arias, particularly the tumultuous mad scene in Act II and the Canzone del salice in Act III, when her heartache was so palpable that it was impossible to hold back tears.

Forever faithfully the wife of Otello
Photo credit: Robert Altman

Her performance was so convincing that she did not simply portray Desdemona, she was Desdemona. Lopez’s heroine is not a wishy-washy limp little victim (as was the case with Peretyatko at La Scala), but rather a fierce woman who knows who she loves and will not go down without a fight. In the Act I finale, when all hell breaks loose because it is discovered that she and Otello have already eloped, she is defiant about it (Giurai! – I swore myself to him!), even when her father throws her on the floor cursing her. When the plot thickens (i.e., Iago orchestrates the Rodrigo/Otello rivalry) and she needs to deal with Rodrigo’s amorous advances, she slaps him (right after his climactic high C) and storms away. It was really something.

Uccidimi se vuoi!
Photo credit: LoftOpera

During her mad scene, fearing for Otello’s life, her love for him explodes from out of the words, music and her singing. She was so distressed that her hands were visibly shaking and she threw herself against the wall. She brought this passage of the score forcefully to life, lending deep meaning to her madness. In the final confrontation with Otello, Desdemona’s desperation reaches yet a new high, as she dares him to kill her, fiery and passionate until the end, with an intensity that did justice to the powerful libretto (Uccidimi se vuoi, perfido! Ingrato! – Non arrestare il colpo / vibralo a questo core / sfoga il tuo reo furore / intrepida morrò).*

Cecilia Violetta Lopez is an exciting singing actress. She delivered one of the most sensational and explosive performances I’ve ever seen live. We were very lucky to have caught her in such an intimate setting while LoftOpera still can afford her. Ms. Lopez seems to have what it takes to hit international operatic stardom very soon.

 

The excellent cast was completed by bass baritone Isaiah Musik-Ayala, as Desdemona’s father Elmiro, and mezzo Toby Newman, as her confidante Emilia. Musik-Ayala pulled off a mature Marcello Mastroianni look (Fellini references abounded) and was particularly memorable as a grounding force in the various ensemble pieces, as well as a nasty fatherly figure, brutalizing poor Desdemona at every turn.

Fellini's Le notti di Cabiria greets you
Photo credit: Caterina De Bianchi

The production concept of stage director John de los Santos moves the action to the 1950s, the economic boom in post-war Italy known as the “miracolo italiano.” A silent screening of Fellini’s Le Notti di Cabiria before the show helped frame the cultural period, and costumes and stage props had a glamorous 1950s look. This directorial take worked most of the time. While it did not detract from the content of the story, it did not add much either. All in all, it made great use of the intimate space and had some clever touches.

One interesting idea was to have a little vignette immediately before the overture, where Desdemona tenderly kisses Otello goodbye in her bedroom and the two say to each other, mi serba intatta la fè (be faithful to me). This is a line Otello will later say as an aside to his beloved in the group scene at the end of Act I, when chaos ensues after he reveals that he and Desdemona are already secretly married. While this little prelude is not part of the original libretto, it does help frame the backstory that Otello and Desdemona were genuinely in love and expressed serious vows of faithfulness to each other. The strength of their love is otherwise not so directly displayed in the rest of the opera. They spend their time fighting everybody who wants to draw them apart (as well each other’s demons) so the addition was a lovely touch.

This is rare, difficult material – it takes guts, passion and mastery to pull it off. The bel canto expertise, dedication and leadership of music director and conductor Sean Kelly shone through every detail (casting, conducting, Italian and musical coaching, balance between orchestra and singers). In the hands of maestro Kelly, Rossini is not only entertaining vocal gymnastics but also true, colorful emotional expression. So alive and mind-blowing.

Maestro Sean Kelly at the helm
Photo credit: Robert Altman

In the past we’ve harped on and on about how the genius of this company lies in the way they bring raw operatic experiences to unconventional venues that appeal to the under-30 crowd. This time it felt a little different. The venue was less of a cavernous industrial space and more of an intimate photo studio with a hip art gallery feel to it, and the crowd was a bit more grown up and sophisticated than at other shows. Still, the evening kept the magic of going to the middle of nowhere, looking for the O P E R A sign and entering into a parallel universe populated by 300-odd people eager to sit through (and go wild for) an epic performance of a rare Rossini opera.

All six performance dates sold out pretty quickly and I’m sure that if they had extended the run they would have had no problem whatsoever filling those seats. As always, there is something that feels awfully right about what LoftOpera does to the art form, with the perfect balance between artistic excellence and unassuming cool. Next up, a baroque medley of Pergolesi and Vivaldi in June.

– Lei & Lui

* Kill me if you wish, evil one! Traitor! - Don’t hold back / Strike me in the heart / Unleash your wicked fury / Fearless, I will die.

LoftOpera vibes all around
Photo credit: LoftOpera

Love in the Time of Faction

Charles Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette

Metropolitan Opera

January 28, 2017

Our pair of convalescent lovers
Photo credit: Met Opera

It was (again) one of those evenings when the stage manager appears at the front of the stage to a palpable gasp of despair from every corner of the house. “Diana Damrau is recovering from a cold [pregnant pause] and so is Vittorio Grigolo…” A ripple of shock swept through the audience: No! The announcement continued, “and so they will be singing anyway. Enjoy the performance.” Thank goodness these two lead singers are normally exceptionally strong, which meant that despite their various states of convalescence, they sounded great both individually and together. Since they often sing together, the chemistry between them is evident.

Grigolo strikes his Romèo pose
Photo credit: Met Opera

Tenor Vittorio Grigolo is one of the most thrilling super divos to grace the Met stage of late. As per his usual, he chewed up the scenery, or rather he climbed all over it. There was hardly a pillar or a platform or a column that he didn’t run and jump and ramp up on. He literally bounced off the sets embodying a romantic super-hero with a voice to match his exuberant physical prowess. That soaring quality that we look for in a great romantic tenor was definitely there, but his voice was deeper this time out, chestier than I remember it. Perhaps that was due to the cold and if so it had a pleasantly manlier side effect.

Grigolo chews up the scenery
Photo credit: Met Opera

Grigolo had several moving moments, however he really took me by storm, emotionally, when he bounded pensively across the stage toward Juliette’s balcony in Act II to cry out, L’amour, l’amour!… Ah! lève-toi soleil. Young love is at the center of the opera and this moment puts its earliest gushing red flush in words, sets it to music. Grigolo’s boyish Neapolitan charms were on full display. He’s also just a pleasure to watch, gigioneggiando hither, thither and yon.

Soprano Diana Damrau often strikes the figure of a stately dame on the operatic stage with an equally stellar vocal technique. She is a master. Somehow in order to play the star-crossed young lover Juliette, she came off as fully rejuvenated, fresh faced and bubbly. She threw herself into the role energetically and with spunk. Even her costumes look great and were very flattering of her figure. In one way or another every time she breezed across the stage a cloud of muslin and gauze floated in a flurry all around her. This Juliette was celestial also thanks to the aura of lightweight fabric that always accompanied her. Damrau’s singing was also top notch, despite the cold.

A grand dame rejuvenated
Photo credit: Met Opera

Juliette’s famous waltz in Act I, Je veux vivre, was self-assured, defiant and flirty at the same time. She intoned with exuberance the verses in which she muses on girding herself against the assaults of love in favor of living life on her own terms. Laisse-moi sommeiller / Et respirer la rose, / Respirer la rose / Avant de l’effeuiller (Let me sleep and smell the rose, before despoiling it). The imagery of savoring the rose, rather than seizing it, poses a subtle affront to the classic carpe diem trope that has so often been employed by young men to coax their ladies into love. Damrau’s body language very cleverly sent one message while her words communicated another.

Mezzo-soprano Virginie Verrez sang a charming if not naïf rendition of Stéphano’s one big aria in the second half of Act III. With its refrain of Gardez bien la belle!, her take had less of an edge of assault, and instead came off as more of an innocent, playful taunt. The contrast was nevertheless felt inasmuch as it serves to introduce the climactic duel that closes the act and ends in deaths on both sides of the factional divide.

Stunning Italianate sets update the action to 18th Century Verona
Photo credit: Met Opera

This is, of course, the time honored story about the tragic star-crossed lovers of Verona. It’s first iteration dates back to Matteo Bandello’s novella, which was probably written between 1531-1545 and which had already been widely translated and imitated. Placed among his early works, Shakespeare’s own version dates to the end of the 16th century, which then provides the basis for the 1867 opera by Charles Gounod with a libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré.

At first encounter with the immaculately detailed sets designed by Michael Yeargin for Bartlett Sher’s new production, it would seem that the purists in the Met audience are finally getting what they always long for: a hyper-realistic period piece with all the fixings. And they really allow you to revel in the beauty of the scenery on stage. As you file into your seat the curtain is already up so you can feast your eyes on the beautifully detailed depiction of a very Veronese piazza with its palatial facades and abundant traces of Roman relics including a single column set up in the middle of the square.

Love in the time of factions
Photo credit: Met Opera

Once the show gets going, however, it becomes clear – primarily only through the costuming decisions made by Catherine Yuber – that the action has been set not in the early Italian Renaissance but rather it has been updated to the 18th century. The Capulets are dressed in coats and stockings that make them look more French, like the Bourbon monarchs who held power in Italy and elsewhere in this period, than like Italians of the time. The Montagues are dressed decidedly different. Romeo and his gang of hoodlums come off as belonging to some kind of rebel class of slightly later Jacobin revolutionaries sporting leather coats and frilly shirts unbuttoned (showing off hunky pectorals). But aren’t we supposed to still be in Italy? What does this production accomplish by setting the story of these two timeless lovers against the tensions of later (French?) political classes?

A world in which poetry and violence collide
Photo credit: Met Opera

The program notes tell us that the choice was to set the story in a “mythical Verona” that would represent “a beautiful but dangerous world where poetry or violence might erupt at any moment.” There was also some intended reference to Fellini’s Casanova but did not seem to fully work with the overall plot. While the sets may have been Italianate, the costumes were decidedly French. They seemed to pit the ancien régime off against a clan of Jacobin-looking revolutionaries, Capulets and Montagues, respectively.

The Met orchestra sounded terrific and from the moment that it launched into the big tragic chords of the overture to Gounod’s romantic masterpiece under the baton of Gianandrea Noseda, the turmoil and tumult rocking the world outside slowly faded away. Mind you it doesn’t turn out well for anybody involved. While in the play the tragedy leads to the reconciliation of the feuding families, Gounod’s version closes on the couple expiring together, which is a more definitive and dramatic ending, certainly more fitting for the operatic form.

– Lui & Lei

The couple expires and the story ends
Photo credit: Met Opera