...and starring Fran Drescher as Urkel

The official "news" from last night's Don Pasquale premiere is surely of its ecstatic reception, and the unexpected pull-out of Juan Diego Flórez before Act III (followed by the successful substitution of Barry Banks). My contrarian thought was more like this: someone has to tell Anna Netrebko that she's not nearly as irresistible as she thinks she is.

With the unfortunate encouragement of Otto Schenk's directorial crew, Netrebko spends her entire stage time flouncing, flapping, and slinking around in a way having very little to do with her character and rather too much with the out-of-control sitcom sidekick archetype. This is well and good when her character is "in character" as Sofronia, but Netrebko makes little distinction. It's the same schtick from beginning to the breaking-the-fourth-wall end.

Vocally one can't argue with the control she shows of her instrument -- how she gets it to jump through hoops on command -- but again it's impossible not to notice how thick and unyouthful the basic sound's already become. Still, this part was on the whole commendable.

The trick with Donizetti's opera is that it can come off as unpleasantly cruel, and may actually be that way. To offset this, houses have long cast personally charming singers as Norina (including, at the Met, the greatest of them -- Lucrezia Bori) and Ernesto. Florez certainly held up his end, singing appealingly (if with a bit of forcing in Act II) before his sudden withdrawal; Banks, too, deputized nicely for "Comè gentil". From the past we know Netrebko's not without charms, but she overplays Norina here so as to make one wonder how Ernesto could have apparently real feelings for such...

But the production as a whole emphasizes the cartoony, sitcom aspect of Don Pasquale and downplays the undercurrent of feeling. Simone Alaimo sings this title role very well, but his emotions are more a tic than any sort of real Falstaffian outburst. Who comes off best? Mariusz Kwiecien, who sounds absolutely amazing (again).

Maybe I'll like it more next time. Now if you'll pardon me, I have to rush to the matinee of Fidelio.

UPDATE (4/2): Some official pictures here.

No Mattila today

Total unknown Erika Sunnegardh will deputize for the broadcast.

So it seems she's Thomas Sunnegardh's half-sister?


UPDATE (4/27): My thoughts on her performance here.

Oops

Dear readers -- I've been remiss in writing posts because I've actually been too busy going to performances. Nevertheless I'll try to post a notice on tonight's Don Pasquale, though going to three performances in the two days after may get in the way a bit.

Then, at some point, catch-up posts going back to Forza. I promise.

Met Council Finals 2006

Sunday brought the Metropolitan Opera National Council Grand Finals Concert (52nd edition). Nine singers offered two arias each. They were, in order:

Jonathan Beyer, baritone
"Bella siccome un angelo" (Don Pasquale)
Papageno's suicide scene (Magic Flute)

Nikki Einfeld, soprano
"O luce di quest'anima" (Linda di Chamounix)
Willow Song (Ballad of Baby Doe)

Paul Corona, bass
"Vi ravviso, o luoghi ameni" (La Sonnambula)
"La calunnia" (Barber)

Holli Harrison, soprano
"L'altra notte" (Mefistofele)
Song to the Moon (Rusalka)

Seth Keeton, bass-baritone
"O beauty, o handsomeness, goodness!" (Billy Budd)
"Wie schön ist doch die Musik" (Die Schweigsame Frau)

(intermission)

Donovan Singletary, bass-baritone
"Sorge infausta una procella" (Orlando)
"Non più andrai" (Figaro)

Katherine Jolly, soprano
"Durch Zärtlichkeit und Schmeicheln" (Abduction)
"Grossmächtige Prinzessin" (Ariadne)

John Michael Moore, baritone
"O vin, dissipe la tristesse" (Hamlet)
"Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen" (Magic Flute)

Marjorie Owens, soprano
"D'Oreste, d'Ajace" (Idomeneo)
"To this we've come" (The Consul)

None of the singers were bad, but none really stood out the way, e.g., Latonia Moore, Twyla Robinson, or Susanna Phillips have in recent years. The winners were Corona, Harrison, Singletary, Jolly, and Owens, but everyone I talked to seemed to have a different idea of who should have won (and none agreed with the official jury).

Interestingly, there were more men than women in this final lineup -- and the men were, on the whole, more interesting. Also, no mezzos. Both unusual.

Jonathan Beyer (a 24-year-old from Curtis) was, I thought, was the most musical of the group, with a firm and seemingly-innate sense of how to shape a phrase and show character. The sound was pleasant though not huge, which -- though conductor Patrick Summers was drowning them out all afternoon -- may have hurt his rating with the judges. But he performed his two pieces so as to make one sit up and listen.

Nikki Einfeld (28, and former SFO Adler Fellow) did pretty well with her (very ornamented) Donizetti aria, and had her admirers. I found her basic sound of mixed appeal, with some parts pretty, others not so much -- the Donizetti's introductory recitative started things off unhappily -- and a bit of underlying sourness that I wasn't sure was interesting or just sour. Also, I couldn't understand much of her English.

Paul Corona (a senior at Northwestern) was, I think, picked purely on future potential. Not many 22-year-old basses have his instrument's natural amplitude, and he showed a willingness to move and attempt a phrase, though I found those aspects of his performance boring. (But Beyer set a high bar here.)

Holli Harrison, also 28, had an impressively focused and loud middle and top, though a bit white for my liking. Unfortunately her selections didn't show too much else. The Boito was a waste -- if, like most well-schooled young singers, you're not going to use chest, why bother? The Dvorak made a better impression, though again I found the non-sonic aspects sort of boring.

More interesting were the offerings of Minnesota Opera's 30-year-old Seth Keeton, who gave good renditions of two lesser-known selections. But despite its true, pleasing bass-baritone timbre, his voice failed to make an impact at the Met. I wouldn't mind hearing him in a smaller house, though.

Donovan Singletary -- another 22-year-old -- seemed to be the only singer everyone liked. His dark, leanish bass-baritone impressed in both pieces, though his gesticulation in the Mozart was way over the top.

28-year-old high soprano Katherine Jolly did well enough in getting through the Zerbinetta aria, but... The lower and middle voice is barely there, and the general tone isn't particularly pretty. Again, the impulse to act was there, but wasn't quite well-realized. Some wags suggested afterward that her association with Opera Theater of St. Louis and that company director's presence on the jury was what got Jolly a "win". This seems plausible in part (considering the general parity of the contestants), but honestly hadn't occurred to me at all -- I figured it's because a fairly sound high soprano is bound to be useful, at the least.

The most beautiful sound of the afternoon was actually that of 24-year-old baritone John Michael Moore, whose Hamlet aria was mellifluously delicious. The Papageno showed him in more recessed voice, however, for whatever reason.

The final singer, 25-year-old Marjorie Owens of Lyric Opera's young artists' program, had the most ambitious pairing. Elettra's mad scene, and then... most of the audience surely remembered the last Council Finals performance of the Menotti -- a stupendous outpouring by 2002 winner Twyla Robinson (and why, incidentally, is she not yet singing Strauss at the Met?) that brought the house down. Owens didn't -- with either aria -- but her voice, maybe the only interesting female one of the afternoon, did show an exciting edge to its sound.


*     *     *
I would have picked Beyer, Singletary, Moore, and Owens (and perhaps Corona as well -- for potential only). Passing over Moore seemed particularly bizarre. But one could make a case for any -- or none -- as "winners".

But how one sounds on the afternoon of the Met Council Finals -- or any other competition day -- isn't necessarily destiny. One of the least impressive Council Finals performances I remember was Simon O'Neill's in 2002. Agonizingly squeezed, unpleasant high notes that were hardly integrated into the rest of the voice. Yesterday, however, he sang as a guest artist, showing much, much better form in "In fernem Land" -- prompting host Ben Heppner (whom, I believe, O'Neill is covering in next month's Lohengrin) to joke about hearing footsteps...

Margaret Jane Wray, also in that Lohengrin cast and terrific as Sieglinde a year or so back, sounded rather worse than usual in the other guest artist offering, "Dich, teure Halle". An aberration, I hope, as she is one of my favorite Wagnerians.


UPDATE (3/29): Maury D'Annato has some more, uh, thoughtful thoughts on the participants.

For the second year running...

Lindemann recitals at the Goethe-Institut.

Lots to hear, for the curious. Sadly the hyper-intense Russell Thomas has already done his, but he seems to be getting more prominent engagements already.

What I missed

Mazeppa. Luisa Miller, including the house (bit part) debut of prodigiously talented young mezzo Tamara Mumford. The Levine news. Fidelio's dress rehearsal. And anything anyone might have written in the last three weeks -- internet or dead tree.

What I didn't miss: Magdalena Kozena looking remarkably like an extra from The Lord of the Rings at her recital. (Sadly, the singing wasn't as memorable. From her American debut on, Kozena performances -- last fall's Cosis aside -- keep leaving the impression that they really ought to be better than they are.) Second-cast replacements that helped make a much better Forza tonight.

What kicks off Monday: Mattila month at the Met. Don't miss it.

Under wraps

James Panero offers an interesting tidbit -- with picture! -- from Joe Volpe's forthcoming book, about Karita Mattila's famous nude moment in Salome two years back.

(Incidentally, it appears that the promised DVD of that production won't come out until after the Volpe book...)

Forza in the press

I don't usually agree with Jay Nordlinger's reviews, but find this -- from his review in today's NY Sun -- quite delightful:

If you don't like "Forza," you don't like Verdi. And you probably don't like the Italian repertoire. I won't go so far as to say you don't like life.

Well, I might.

When the NY Times, on the other hand, puts forth something as ridiculous as this, I mostly wish vilaine fille were posting more. My skill at invective is insufficiently sharp.

(Other press accounts from Bernheimer, Clive Barnes, and the AP's Mike Silverman.)

Forza

The force of Piave and Verdi's La Forza del Destino is strong enough to survive mutilation at Verdi's own hand (with Ghislanzoni, this time); given enough sonic meat on the bones of its score, it can survive all sorts of performance follies as well. So the current Met revival, which premiered last night, offers a thorougly mixed bag in its parts but still packs a serious dramatic punch.

Best, perhaps, are the singers. Deborah Voigt's new voice may frustrate those expecting the previous version, but it serves her well as Leonora. The lighter, more liquid middle moves easily through the part, and if the top shows more vibrato than it's done, it well suits the desperation of her character. When called for -- "La Vergine degli Angeli", the start of "Pace, pace" -- the pure version of the Voigt sound still appears. Combined with her new physical ease, this is Voigt's first post-surgical role triumph.

Her tenor partner, Salvatore Licitra, provided both good and bad. The first act brought a congested, uneasy sound that had me worrying that this uneven tenor was on one of his very poor nights. But the problem cleared as the evening went on (though it lingered in some high notes), and he eventually delivered the easy large sound and natural feel for the role that made such a huge impression at the Carnegie Hall concert Forza some years ago. (For the quantitatively inclined, I might put this performance, on the whole, at about 80-85% of that one...) Perhaps he's recovering from illness and will show full form later in the run.

Mark Delavan is such a natural fit for the character of Carlo di Vargas that it seems nitpicky to note that the part asks for more agility than his voice really has. Padre Guardiano, too, finds an excellent exponent in the late-career (but sounding quite good) Sam Ramey, as does the more comic priest Melitone in Juan Pons. (Pons -- also impressive of late in Aida -- seems liberated in Verdi's character parts; as Rigoletto and Falstaff, he was overwhelmed.) Lyric mezzo Ildikó Komlósi, as Preziosilla, shows good rhythmic sense but lacks the lower- and middle-voice force to make a real impression.

As impressive as any of these excellent sung performances was the solo playing of clarinetist Steve Williamson and some of his Met Orchestra colleagues. Credit to conductor Gianandrea Noseda for giving them the room to phrase. But though the Italian-born Gergiev protege gets this and many other details of sound and phrase right, his episodic, helter-skelter approach to the whole nearly undermines the performance. Crowd scenes lack the rambunctious energy and momentum -- is he embarrassed by them, or has there just been insufficient rehearsal? -- they need to offset and contrast the tragic solo bits. And he lets Leonora's monastery scene -- the heart of the opera -- sag badly, leaking energy at every pause and working against (not for) her progression from barely articulate desperation through the stirrings of hope (and regular rhythm) via Guardiano to frenzied, ecstatic relief.

Meanwhile Giancarlo del Monaco's sets -- and stage mechanics -- are showing their age. About the only interesting feature is the saints depicted in the monastery courtyard, while stage hands quite audibly intrude on the action a few times. The lighting, too, could be adjusted up some lumens.

But Verdi's masterpiece works on such a powerful, elemental level that all such problems are missed opportunities, not fatal flaws. The revival is moving, and very much worth seeing -- and hearing. Just don't expect a Marinuzzi (or, indeed, Levine) in the pit.

(Some words about the opera's endings, its "plausibility", and so on to follow in another post.)

Aida

The long and enduring popularity of Verdi's Aida has, I suspect, more than a little to do with its remarkably lyric character. Not merely the quality and profusion of its tunes -- outstanding even for Verdi -- but the absence of certain dramatic qualities make the piece quite a different listen than, say, Forza or Don Carlos. As perhaps befits the ancient Egyptian setting, the main characters exert little on the fatal developments of the plot, in fact showing no interest in doing so or otherwise engaging in the central agon. Instead they offer personal -- lyric -- commentary on the unfolding situations, unburdened by the sense of having to do anything about them. It is up to Amonasro to push the plot forward, but his intervention is short-lived. How could it not? Public things are here experienced as spectacle, seen but not to be touched, especially by a guy who only appears halfway through the opera.

This all goes down quite easily for audiences, who themselves get spectacle and lyric reaction without the disruptive energy of an actual contest. The tenor and soprano, too, may succeed on pure beauty of sound and line, though the mezzo Amneris -- who feels the need to affect events, though she isn't shown actually doing it, and finishes with the most memorable hapless-reaction-scene of all -- generally shows something a bit more energetic.

On the other hand, a taut, symphonically dramatic account by the conductor is welcome, tightening some of the slack that can accompany outings of this warhorse. In the Met's current Aida, which I saw on Monday and will be broadcast in a few minutes, James Conlon sets the tone admirably in this style. It may not have been the case in the fall, but he and the orchestra are now on the same page, from the lyricism and transparent textures of the preludes to the rhythmically confident march strains, well-shaped climaxes, and further lyrical bits that follow.

The cast is pretty much what one might have expected. Olga Borodina, clearly the star of the show, can apparently sing everything but presents such a unitary face -- sound, phrase, gesture, and indeed sub-gestural body language -- as the scorned Egyptian princess that one can hardly imagine her otherwise (until one sees her Dalila, Eboli, etc.). Johan Botha makes Radames seem easy, finding a touch of trouble only when he attempted a soft finish to "Celeste Aida". (I know how it's written, but why not shout out that high note as every other tenor does?) His Radames is young, effortlessly powerful, and somewhat good-naturedly stupid -- not an unconvincing take, though it's not far from Botha's stage persona in every other role I've seen. Juan Pons is much better as Amonasro than as any of the lead Verdi parts he's been singing for the Met, and bit singers Kwangchul Youn (Ramfis) and Jennifer Check (the offstage Priestess) acquit themselves well.

The problem, as it often has been of late, is Aida herself. Andrea Gruber unfortunately reminded me why the term "squally" is often trotted out against sopranos one doesn't like, missing note after note and failing utterly to connect the ones she hit. She did improve a bit as the opera progressed, and there were some good pleasant notes she connected on -- where she showed the full vocal size for the part at the Met, which is a plus -- but the whole was... disconcerting. I've no idea how the broadcast will sound. Has Gruber blown out her voice for good? I hope not.

Still, on the whole, between Conlon, Botha, and Borodina -- and not least Verdi -- it was a memorably good evening.

My bloody Valentine

(Night After Night got there first, so a few quick words mostly agreeing with that account.)

Handel operas can be something of a trial: all those repeat-laden solo arias leave little behind which a poor singer can hide, and little distraction for an audience subjected to one. Of course, they also give plenty of space and occasion for a great singer to seduce with tone, and display her full range of vocal color. The most "authentic" thing in Handel performance is star quality.

Hercules isn't an opera, of course, being from his later English-language period. Nevertheless, as the hero's jealous wife Dejanira mezzo Joyce DiDonato comes close to this ideal, showing power, finesse, and a straightforward ease in seeming unhinged. Being still just in cutesy pant parts at the Met, it's a pleasant shock to see just how deep and broad her talent is. DiDonato makes the show -- see her. (Incidentally, despite general convention she gets the last solo bow.)

The rest of the cast is never less than pleasant, often more. It's always good to see William Shimell in something substantial, and the lean, pure, but not insubstantial soprano of Ingela Bohlin is another happy discovery. William Christie conducts with unceasing life and energy, and his orchestra leader Patrick Cohen phrases his third-act solos well.

BAM's electronic acoustical "enhancement" system, of which I've previously complained, seemed either off or on good (that is to say: minimally noticable) behavior. There's no reason for there to be empty seats at this, especially for the first nights of a four-performances-in-five-and-a-half-days (insanity!) run.

And no countertenors (well, except for the chorus)? Go.

The not-quite-post-Times era

What, bloggers are offering serious thoughts on this already? To me -- beyond the relief that nothing self-evidently horrible was put forth -- it seemed a lot of making-a-media-splash noise, indistinguishable from any other. The real effect of Peter Gelb's tenure will be seen over time, in the day-to-day life and habits of the company.

If there's anything of note, perhaps it's that Gelb has scheduled and highlighted for press consumption things likely to excite the New York Times. A dash of smart Hollywood, plus artists with a New York (and NY Times) reputation -- these are the non-operatic infusions he's publicly lined up.

Although Gelb has also planned changes -- internet offerings, etc. -- which may speed up the decline of the Times-dependent broadcast model, the day of its obsolescence has not yet come. Until then, it should be good for the Met that its GM knows how to push old media buttons... As long as he doesn't confuse marketing and mission.

UPDATE (4:30PM): The full house press release is here, with complete details of the next season. Comments on this soon.

UPDATE 2 (2/15): Seriously, there's nothing the Times loves more than the opportunity to do an "ooh, those reactionary people are worried" article... Or twenty.

Exploitation

Despite cancelling entire runs of Samson and (so far) Cyrano -- the latter a vanity vehicle mounted solely for his benefit -- Placido Domingo has been "conducting" much of the current Met run of Rigoletto. This seems a very, very poor deal indeed for the house, but even worse for its patrons. Domingo, for obvious time- and training-related reasons, has a tenuous grasp at best of conducting's technical elements. Matters of texture and phrase are simply beyond him: the orchestra runs, to the extent it does, on autopilot. It's plausible that Met management is cynically cashing in on his name recognition, but I suspect that this farce of a podium engagement was Domingo's price for singing two revivals. Which he now won't.

I'm sure there is a backstage story to this somewhere, and would love to hear it.

Traviata

One can't but admire Angela Gheorghiu for the breadth of her expressive palette, and its judicious application. She effectively blends details from different emotions and expressive traditions -- I think I'm agreeing with Maury here -- without committing too far to any one: an interesting change from her predecessor in the role (other vocal marvels have resorted to this sort of expressive shortcut too, with less pleasing results). But one can't love Gheorghiu either, for almost the same reason: she never commits herself wholly to any moment, never shows more at risk than her impressive control. (Somehow her refusal to do the "Addio del passato" repeat seems another example.)

This isn't another dig at her vocal size, though a real house-shaking climax or two would have gone a ways to filling the gap. I've seen less impressive vocal endowments bring more of the audience to tears. But they were unhampered by the burden of being a star.

Jonas Kaufmann made a fine house debut here as Alfredo. Though the dark baby-heldentenor voice seems a bit odd on broadcast, his first visual impression -- the shock of that scarcely-believable Kenny G mop -- stamped his character indelibly as young.

The stage director for this revival, Kristene McIntyre, seems to have instructed Anthony Michaels-Moore to play Germont as even more stiff and wooden than is traditional: his discomfort and closedness at Violetta's Act II plea to embrace her is total. This makes sense in realistic terms, but, with Michaels-Moore's vocal interpretation being along similar lines, sucks much of the back-and-forth energy out of potentially the most important scene of the opera. Here, though sung in duet, it is experienced essentially solo, with only Violetta reacting. (Michaels-Moore did, however, perfectly embody the dignity of an emotionally wooden man in his impressive "Di Provenza".)

Marco Armiliato conducted well, with good attention to detail, but lacked the poetic touch other conductors have brought. One might say the same of the whole performance.

*     *     *
On opening night, incidentally, the sets caused quite a ruckus of applause and admiration among the audience, particularly when the Act III bedroom rose up to reveal the now-dusty Act I living room downstairs. Apparently Gheorghiu has attracted first-timers to this Traviata production -- a good sign.

What on...?

If you think you saw a short post here yesterday afternoon that's since disappeared, you're not alone. Meanwhile blogger seems to be showing November's news. Not good.