Mozart Lite?

It is difficult to believe that Mozart’s The Magic Flute is the work of a dying man. 

 

This beloved, optimistic, life-affirming opera, one that can be, and is, enjoyed by young and old, by opera neophytes as well as the most sophisticated intellectual. Goethe was apparently so taken by the opera that he began to work on a sequel, one that remained a fragment, partly because no composer wanted to risk comparison with Mozart. I know of no more insightful and multi-faceted discussion of this work of wonder than in Father M. Owen Lee’s essay “The Music of Intuitive Angels”, contained in his book A Season of Opera From Orpheus to Ariadne (University of Toronto Press, 1998), where he discussed the many different ways to view this – in Father Lee’s words – prismatic work, from masonic allegory to a retelling of classical myth, to even Jungian approach where characters in the opera are seen as archetypes. 

 

None of those considerations appear to be in the “concept” of directors Paul Barritt, Suzanne Andrade (of the British theatre group 1927) and Barry Kosky, who sought to transform Seattle Opera’s production of the opera into a live-action, and action-packed, cartoon, and keeping everything on a most superficial level, seeking only to entertain. And entertain it did, because the packed audience last Sunday roared and cheered following the performance. 

 

The “set” consisted only of a large white background, with various revolving doors where characters emerge and disappear. All the visual effects were supplied cleverly, even brilliantly, by computer projections. For me, such projected effects that worked so well for the company’s last production of the relatively static, Tristan und Isolde, took away much of – and perhaps even prevented such attempts to view the piece - the deeper meaning inherent in the Mozart’s score. 

 

The spoken Germany dialogue was removed entirely, thereby removing a major element of the singspielelement of the work. “Dialogue” and background description were projected onto the background. Apparently, the producers wanted to simulate the feeling of watching a silent film, where much of the emotions were mimed. Even as a non-German speaker, eliminating this important dramatic element from the opera made the entire production somewhat two-dimensional – again, perhaps this was also intentional. I was reminded of the fact that when silent films gradually gave way to “talkies”, many former superstars lost their careers overnight, simply because they were not able to “act” with their voices. I do feel that the spoken dialogue is an integral of this drama, and to eliminate it would be like ridding it of one crucial element of the art work.

 

Projecting the dialogue also made it easier to sidestep the more controversial, even seemingly offensive, dialogue. Monostatos’ line (indeed difficult to hear in our age), “Yet is all love’s joy denied me, for my black and ugly face” was changed to “Perhaps because I am ugly”. Perhaps another nod to silent films was the portrayal of Monostatos as a decidedly pale faced, Nosferatu-looking character. Once again, this begs the question of whether we remove, or sanitize, art that offend the sensibility of our age?

 

But what of the music?

 

To my ears, the musical aspect of Mozart’s score was indeed well done. Victor Ryan Robertson’s Tamino seemed to lack projection at the beginning of the afternoon, but it much improved as the performance continued, especially in the second act. Camille Ortiz sang Pamina with a purity and beauty in her voice, as well as an obvious affinity to Mozart’s style. Sharleen Joynt’s Queen of the Night was stunning, and her technically impregnable and dramatic searing singing of Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen took my breath away. Bass In Sung Sim sang Sarastro with great beauty of sound, perhaps a little lacking in richness, which somewhat undermines the character’s authority. Naturally, Pagageno invariably steals the show in any production, and Rodion Pogossov did not disappoint dramatically or musically. The three ladies of Ariana Wehr, Ibidunni Ojikutu, and Laurel Semerdjian, as well as the trio of genies of boys and girls (as opposed to the “three boys” indicated by the composer) of Sanne Christine Smith, Grace Elaine Franck-Smith, and Anthony E. Kim, acquit themselves more than admirably.

 

Conductor Christine Brandes conducted, paced and shaped Mozart’s miraculous score beautifully, and members of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra played with feeling as well as beauty of sound, especially by the woodwinds.

 

No doubt, a great success for Seattle Opera both in terms of box office and audience response. And in the end, it was Mozart’s music that triumphed. Yet, with so many of the elements of the score removed, the dramatic impact of the opera was, for me, somewhat lessened, even in the usually cathartic moment following Pamina and Tamino’s successful passage through the ordeals of fire and water. For me, there was something missing from the overall impact of the drama.

 

How much are we supposed to tamper with the indications on the composer’s score? Considering the radical interpretations or reimaging of operas, it seems our “tolerance” for what used to be considered radical ideas has markedly shifted. 

 

Certainly, Mozart’s music cannot be destroyed, regardless of how much a director departs from the score. 

 

Perhaps this is a concept of the opera for the 21^st century, and we must not forget that the opera was written not for Vienna’s most prestigious opera house, but a people’s theatre beyond city limit, as entertainment. 

 

One question that went through my mind after Sunday’s production was – what would Mozart say?

 

 

 

 

Seattle Opera's 60th Anniversary Das Rheingold

Beginning with its production of Die Walküre in 1975, Seattle Opera has since put the city on the map as the Wagner capital of North America. This season, the 60-year-old company celebrated its anniversary with a presentation of Das Rheingold, directed by Brian Staufenbiel, and with former Seattle Symphony music director Ludovic Morlot directing the musical forces.

 

Vocally it was truly an impregnable performance – the voices were uniformly outstanding, from the commanding vocal and dramatic presence of Greer Grimsley, to the smaller role like Froh (Viktor Antipenko) and Donner (Michael Chioldi), singing actors all carried off their role with vocal beauty and dramatic conviction. Peixin Chen and Kenneth Kellogg were memorable and suitably menacing in their portrayal and singing of Fasolt and Fafner. Melody Wilson as Fricka and Katie Van Kooten as Freia, both sang with palpable musicality and a convincing degree of humanity - as well as all-too-human frailties as the all-too-human gods. 

 

Most memorable were Martin Bakari’s masterful portrayal of a crafty and slippery Loge, and Michael Mayes as a menacing and power-hungry – though not really all that lustful - Alberich. The vocal prowess of these singers was well-matched by a dramatic presence they brought to their roles. They truly became the characters they were singing.

 

Production designer David Murakami and Lighting Designer Mextly Couzin made effective use of projections and lasers to create visual effects that would otherwise have been near impossible – the rainbow bridge to Valhalla in Scene Four, for instance. For me, the drawback of the production design lay in the use of the stage as well as the orchestral pit. The production team placed the entire Seattle Symphony on the stage, with the singers singing either in front of the orchestra or above it on a metal bridge that supposedly signifies the “open space on a mountain, a castle glimmering in the distance”. 

 

To be sure, such placement of voices and orchestra gave the vocal lines much more prominence than we are used to. Unfortunately, from my vantage point, the all-important orchestral sounds did not match the presence of the voices. Rather than having the sound of the orchestra envelope the vocal lines, the sounds of the instruments seemed receded in the background. 

 

The musicians of the Seattle Symphony played with great sensitivity and beauty of sound for Ludovic Morlot. Perhaps it was because of the placement of the orchestra, I did find myself wishing for a greater richness as well as weightiness in the sound, especially in the strings.

 

The orchestra pit was put to use dramatically, doubling as the Rhine River in Scene One as well as the subterranean Nibelheim in Scene Three. Although the use of projected “water” on a scrim made the image of the Rhine quite effective, it was much less visually convincing as Alberich’s labour camp for Mime and the Nibelungs.

 

The presence of the orchestra on stage somehow diminished the “magic” of the drama, giving it the feel of a semi-staged production. The absolute mystery of the beginning of the opera was missing, as we clearly saw the conductor giving the downbeat for the music. The low E-flat that begins the opera did not “come from nothing”, as I believe Wagner intended it to.

Of course, Wagner’s dramatic demands of these operas would challenge the most intrepid and ingenious director, and no one production could really claim to overcome all the problems posed by what the composer had in mind. It is when the director strayed too far afield from Wagner’s direction that lessened the impact of the drama.

 

That said, yesterday’s performance of Das Rheingold did make an indelible impression on me, at least musically. Let’s hope that the new general director of Seattle Opera would see to it that the other three operas of the Ring would soon be presented in the Emerald City.

 

 

 

Verdi's Compassionate Human Drama

Seattle Opera’s season-closing production La Traviata is one of those rare occasions where everything comes together – vocally, dramatically, visually, musically – resulting in an overwhelmingly moving and emotionally devastating theatrical and musical experience.

 

As soon as conductor Carlo Montanaro gave the downbeat for the Prelude to Act I – a masterpiece in string writing - I sensed that we were in for a special afternoon. The musicians of the Seattle Symphony played with great sensitivity and feeling, although the great theme of the Prelude – the melody from Act II when the heroine sings, “Amami Alfredo, Amami quant’io t’amo” – could have been played a little less aggressively, and with more of a glow in the sound. Behind the scrim, we already see what we know to be the end of the opera, a dying Violetta, being cared for in a hospital ward. At the end of the Prelude, the set changed in an instant to the party scene in Violetta’s house, conducted with great energy and a palpable sense of urgency. Indeed, throughout the opera, he managed not only an effective “accompaniment”, but created a curtain of sound that underscored the stream of drama unfolding on stage, and propelled the action with logic and a sense of flow from one emotion, one scene, to the next, until the devastating end of the opera.

 

There were many reasons why this production worked so effectively. The excellence of the young and wonderful voices and the absolutely convincing portrayals of the characters. Even secondary characters, especially Annina and Doctor Grenvil, were beautifully sung, and with palpable compassion. Mane Galoyan’s vocal pyrotechnics, especially her thrilling Sempre libera, certainly sent the first of many chills up my spine. 

 

But vocal pyrotechnics would have been meaningless if the leading soprano did not rise to the dramatic demands of the subsequent. This Ms. Galoyan did, in spades, as she was equally affecting in showing Violetta rising to her ultimate sacrifice in Act II, as well as in Act III, when she succumbs to her tragic fate. Tenor Duke Kim cuts a handsome figure on the stage, and he was utterly convincing in Alfredo’s evolution, from the innocent and guileless youth who lost his heart to Violetta in Act I, to the bitter and angry man at the end of Act II, and to the rather more worldly, but remorseful figure in Act III. Joo Won Kang’s Giorgio Germont gave this Verdi father figure great dignity, effectively using his remarkable voice to convey harshness (in Act II) and fatherly tenderness (in Act III) and convincingly portrays his evolution from the heartless request he made in Act II (perhaps a commentary of Verdi’s contemporary society on “fallen women”?) to the truly compassionate father figure – in this case to Violetta - Verdi is so effective in creating. In the words of that wise and insightful commentator on opera, the late Father Owen Lee, “The scene between Violetta and Alfredo’s father – the courtesan’s generous response to the honest plea of bourgeois respectability – is the great heart of Verdi’s opera.” I would add that Giorgio Germont’s final embrace of Violetta, as a father, is even more overflowing with the composer’s compassion for the neglected in his time. 

 

All three characters grow in different ways during the opera, and the three principals convincingly convey this gradual change through the drama. There was real chemistry between not only the star-crossed lovers, but between the older Germont and the woman yearning for his fatherly love. 

 

After the devasting encounter between Alfredo and Violetta at the end of Act II, the action froze, literally, the scrim comes down, and the music of the Prelude to Act III commenced, a highly effective way to put in sharp relief the strong emotions of Act II and the death-haunted atmosphere of Act III. As the Prelude was being played, the scene gradually changed from the bright colours of the party to the bare walls of a hospital ward. Ms. Galoyan’s delivery as she read aloud the lines from Alfredo’s father, who finally understands the depth of her sacrifice, was highly effective and emotionally searing. At the final moments of the opera, before falling to her death, Violetta rose and, with the almost-too-bright white light on her stark white hospital gown, almost like a transfiguration, stretches out her arm and delivers the lines, “Ah, ma io ritorno a viver! Oh gioia!”, one couldn’t help but felt that power of the miracle that Verdi has created, a miracle of compassion and love. 

 

I can say without hesitation that this was the most dramatically and musically convincing La Traviata I have seen in a long time. How privileged we were to be able to experience this remarkable recreation of Verdi’s supremely moving commentary on, again in the words of Father Owen Lee, “that half-acknowledged society below respectable society”.

 

 

The Greatest Love Story Ever Told

It has been a few years now since Seattle Opera presented a Wagner opera. The company’s current production of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde firmly re-establishes it as one of North America’s premiere Wagner capitals. For me, the performance was an overwhelmingly moving theatrical, musical and emotional experience. 

 

Heidi Melton (Isolde) and Amber Wagner (Bragane) were well-matched in dramatic qualities and beauty of their voices. Melton had, in recent years, sang and recorded Sieglinde in the composer’s Die Walkure and Brunnhilde in Siegfried, with Jaap van Zweden and the Hong Kong Philharmonic as part of their outstanding of Ring Cycle recording. Vocally theirs were the highlights of yesterday’s performance. Amber Wagner’s voice is truly something to behold. She has the power to sail through the orchestral texture, but at the same time never losing the velvety beauty of the quality of her voice. Melton’s voice also possesses great beauty, but also a dramatic quality that matches the text and context.

 

Stefan Vinke’s Tristan does not quite possess the beauty of Ben Hepner (Seattle’s last Tristan) or the dramatic declamatory qualities of Jon Vickers. Nevertheless, his voice much improved in the second and third acts, and in the end successfully conveyed the tortured passions of the tragic character. 

 

Morris Robinson had a commanding dramatic as well as vocal presence, and portrayed a most dignified, human and sympathetic King Marke. 

 

The supporting roles in the opera also had uniformly strong voices. Ryan McKinny was convincing as Kurwenal, in his youthful passion and complete devotion to his master. Andrew Stenson (Sailor/Shepherd), Viktor Antipenko (Melot) and Joshua Jeremiah (Steersman) all contributed to make this a truly uniformly strong cast. 

 

As with any Wagner, the orchestra plays a vital role in any presentation of this Gesamtkunstwerk. Members of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra shone with their magnificent playing yesterday. Principal oboe Mary Lynch Vanderkolk, bass clarinetist Eric Jacobs and of course Stefan Farkas playing the English horn, were outstanding in the beauty of their individual sounds as well as how they blended with the orchestral fabric.

 

I was bowled over by Canadian conductor Jordan De Souza’s control of the orchestra and singers, as well as his passionate conductor of the complex score, while maintaining the flow of the music and imparting great tension into the orchestral sound. According to his biography, he has already conducted in Bayreuth, the Wagner capital of the world. Certainly, a young conductor to watch. If yesterday’s performance was any indication, I am certain that we will be seeing great things from this hugely talented young man. 

 

The remarkable stage design truly deserves special mention. Using digital projection onto a scrim in front of the singers as well as on the backdrop, set and video designer Diego Siliano and video animator Luciana Gutman created real stage magic in all three acts – from the bowels of the ship in Act One, to the love scene in Act Two, where Isolde’s bedchamber surrounded by the forest transformed into a full backdrop of the constellation in the climax, to the black and white, bleak and desolate landscape of Act Three – I would boldly say that this current set design is as ground-breaking as Wieland Wagner’s “painting with light” productions were in post-war Bayreuth. In yesterday’s production, the transformations of the backdrops created a synergistic effect with the music, which I found to be emotionally overwhelming. 

 

I am gratified and thankful that in this current production, the director and set designers did not use Wagner to further their own political ideologies, as we so often see in European productions. I am so glad to see Wagner back in Seattle Opera’s repertory again. Buy a ticket and run to see this production. I can safely say that it will be nothing like you have seen or heard before.

 

 

Mozart's Divine Comedy

An emotional day yesterday as I attended my first opera since the pandemic – Seattle Opera’s production of Mozart’s timeless divine comedy, Le Nozze di Figaro. Indeed, there were times yesterday afternoon that I felt overwhelmed by the visceral effect of hearing this heavenly music.

 

Conductor Alevtina Ioffe led the cast of very well-balanced young voices in a performance that was beautifully sung and acted, (mostly) tastefully funny, and ultimately moving. Ioffe set a comfortably brisk reading of the overture, moulding the music into a cohesive whole but also propelling it forward, with well thought-out tempo choices throughout the performance, as well as logical tempo relationship between the different numbers within each act. It was only at the beginning of Act One’s Terzetto (“Cosa sento! Tosto andate”) that the tempo sagged slightly, somewhat hampering the tension and flow of the music. Kudos to the orchestra too, for their outstanding playing. The brief oboe line in the Countess’ Act Three aria (“Dove sono I bei momenti”) was lovingly played by oboist Ben Hausmann, although I feel that the line could have been shaped with even greater flexibility and space. Likewise, there was brilliant playing by Mark Robbins of the brief horn solo in Figaro’s Act Four aria (“Aprite un po’ quegli occhi”).

 

The voices were uniformly good. Other than outstanding performances of their own solo numbers, the cast really worked to blend their beautiful voices, making this genuinely an outstanding ensemble performance. Michael Samuel made for a convincing Figaro, demonstrating throughout the afternoon his uncanny comic timing – without sacrificing one iota the beauty of the music - conveying on the one hand the character’s street smart as well as being a bit of a “bonehead” at times. 

 

In the “trouser role” of Cherubino, Emily Fons gave truly stunning performances of the character’s two iconic arias. I felt that her overwhelmingly musical singing of the Act Two aria, “Voi che sapete”, really stopped the show. Her rendition of the notoriously difficult “Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio” highlighted the breathless quality of both the text and the aria.  Joshua Hopkin’s Count Almaviva had a physical presence that conveyed the sense of superiority of the character, as well as the almost self-destructive nature of his overactive libido. His “vengeance” aria in Act Three (“Vedro mentr’io sospiro”) conveyed the almost Handelian splendor of the vocal writing. 

 

Helen Dix conveys great dignity in her portrayal of Countess Almaviva, giving heartfelt and truly moving performances of both “Porgi, amor” in Act II and “Dove sono I bei momenti” in Act Three; her handling of the tempo and dramatic transitions in “Dove sono” was particularly deftly handled. Her voice blended magnificently with that of Anya Matanovic’s Susanna in the overwhelmingly beautiful Act Three duet (“Canzonetta sull’aria ‘Che soave zeffiretto”), a real highlight of the afternoon. Dix’s singing of the brief line in Act Four, expressing her pardoning of the Count’s dalliances, conveyed the almost Christ-like nature in her forgiveness. Those six or so measures of music, when all action is abruptly suspended, represents for me a highpoint in all of opera, perhaps even all of music. (The final trio from Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier comes a close second.)

 

Matanovic was the perfect Susanna, conveying the perfect combination of the character’s innocence, sassiness and wit. Her Act Four “garden aria” (“Deh vieni, non tardar”) was another instance when one held one’s breath throughout the performance.

 

Even the “minor” roles were expertly casted and extremely well sung. The only slight disappointment for me was the exaggerated portrayal of Don Basilio, making him even more of a caricature than Mozart had originally intended. Margaret Gawrysiak’s Marcellina was convincing in her dramatic transition from the “older woman” to loving mother. I must say that the idea of the long-lost child with a distinctive birthmark is probably one of the oldest cliches in theatre, yet Mozart’s genius with the music elevated what would have been a silly interlude into one of the most moving scenes, for me, in the entire drama. I was sorry that her Act Four aria was cut from the production, depriving her of a brief moment in the spotlight; perhaps the director felt that it hampers the flow of the drama. 

 

Ashley Fabian sang Barbarina’s Act Four aria (“L’ho perduta…me meschina!”) beautifully, highlighting Mozart’s uncanny dramatic and comic instinct, giving her this music of mock seriousness, filled with genuine pathos, over something as innocuous as losing a pin. I could not help but noticed the similarity of this aria’s opening melodic contour with the themes of Haydn’s Andante with Variations for piano in f minor (Hob XVII:6) as well as the opening theme of Schubert’s Fantasie for piano, four hands, in f minor, D. 940. What is even more uncanny is that all three works are in the key of f minor, and all three themes convey the same sense of gentle pathos. I could not help but wonder if Mozart was familiar with this Haydn work, or which music came first.

 

Stage director Peter Kazaras moved the drama along effectively, adding some clever dramatic insights along the way. In Act One and Act Three, when the peasants were presented to the Count, Kazaras had different women interact with the Count in various ways, suggesting that the lusty Count had had his way with more than a few of them, including one who was obviously with child, and motioned for the Count to notice her growing belly – a not-so-subtle way of indicating the parentage of the child. Benoit Dugardyn’s simple but effective set design, with columns forming a semicircle that gave a sense of depth, provided an effective backdrop as well as setting itself against the vibrant colours of the costumes designed by Myung Hee Cho. The set was beautifully lit by Connie Yun, with shifting colours to indicate the passing of the day. The colour of the impending dusk in Act Three was particularly striking.

 

While every opera of Mozart highlights different aspects of his genius, I personally believe that in Le Nozze di Figaro, the composer achieved perfection. He not only transformed Beaumarchais’ inflammatory (for its time) play into a testament to love and the sanctity of marriage, in the process giving us many insights into our all-too-fallible human nature. On top of all this is music of transcendent beauty that pierces our ears and melts our hearts, truly elevating us far above our everyday existence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rigoletto in Seattle

Seattle Opera opened its 2019-2020 season with Verdi’s Rigoletto. Although the company seemed to have long departed from its summer Wagnerian tradition, the quality of the music making made the trip to the Emerald City worthwhile.

It is quite rare to witness an opera production where all the voices are so consistently good. From the major roles to the relatively smaller parts like Countess Ceprano, Count Monterone, Giovanna, and Sparafucile (who stole the show with his powerful voice and the force of his personality), the company had surely assembled a vocal ensemble of exceptionally high quality. 

Some day we will see a portrayal of Duke of Mantua that conveys the cynicism as well as the jaded-in-life qualities that, for me, this character is filled with. Liparit Avetisyan’s beautiful voice has a bright and ringing quality that makes it very appealing to hear. If he continues to develop, he could, in time, be singing meatier and weightier tenor roles. Perhaps my only “complaint” is that, in spite of his best efforts, he made it difficult for us to detest the character! 

On opening night, soprano Madison Leonard displayed incredible vocal control over every aspect of her challenging role. Her singing of “Caro nome”, in addition to displaying incredible vocal control, convincingly brought forth the innocence of her character and the feelings of a young girl in love for the first time.

Seattle favourite Lester Lynch brought to the title role Rigoletto a human and humane quality that made the final tragedy all the more heartbreaking and poignant. He successfully conveyed the conflicting feelings of a father, torn by his almost obsessive love for his daughter and the shame of seeing her shame. The confrontation between father and daughter in Act II was musically electrifying. 

Conductor Carlo Montanaro controlled every facet of Verdi’s complex score, and his relatively brisk tempi brought a sense of urgency and tension we do not often hear. Certainly he brought out beautiful playing from members of the Seattle Symphony. For me, Mary Lynch’s oboe solo that introduces “Tutte le feste al tempio” was particularly heartfelt and affecting. This is surely an opera conductor who will go far. 

I must say that I was worried when I read the notes by director Lindy Hume and Scholar in Residence Naomi André, with words like “misogynistic”, “destructive parents”, and “toxic masculinity” filling the pages. Fortunately, their rhetoric appears worse than the production, which turned out to not more than setting the opera in the present day. Apparently, the director was inspired by the shenanigans of former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi when she decided to update the opera. In the programme notes, she explained why she simply had to update the opera, to make this “Renaissance-era codpiece-cloak-and-hose setting” relevant to today’s audience. Apologies to Victor Hugo for not making this story relevant!

Such is the climate of antagonism towards religion today that the director felt it necessary to insert two Cardinals amongst the Duke’s entourage, who also took part in Gilda’s kidnapping! Other than revealing the director’s own biases, this little touch makes no dramaticsense, and certainly added nothing to the story.

The problem with such updating is that it made the human relationships in the opera meaningless, even irrelevant. When Rigoletto confronted Gilda in Act II, where the young girl – looking very disheveled and wearing nothing more than a man’s shirt – dressing Rigoletto in modern vest and pants, rather than the vulgar jester’s costume indicated by Verdi, took away completely the shock and horror of this pivotal scene. And perhaps such is the climate of our sexualized society, that Maddalena’s seduction of the Duke involved a highly graphic “table dance”. Clever perhaps, but was this really necessary?

Instead of looking at Verdi from our 21^stcentury perspective, should we not place ourselves within the context and sensibilities of Verdi’s times in order to really understand and appreciate the drama?

I believe that even the famous “La donna è mobile” is not Verdi thinking that women are fickle, but it is, with a supreme sense of irony, the composer chiding menfor not thinking with their brains, but with other parts of their anatomy.

Perhaps we should end with the rather more inspiring words of beloved opera commentator Father M. Owen Lee, who’s recent death deprived us of some of the most insightful words into the operatic canon. In his essay on Rigoletto, titled “When Verdi’s Fathers Sing” (Lee, M. Owen, First Intermissions, New York: Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 22-23) Father Lee wrote not about “destructive parents”, but the real role of the father: 

“In Italy it is the father who presides over the only permanent social unit: the family. Governments occupying forces, kings, popes, political regimes come and go, but the family is always there, providing the pattern for the larger structures of state and even church…Understanding this patriarchal tradition, so strong in Virgil and Verdi, is the beginning of understanding so many things about Italy that confound the non-Italian, from papal infallibility to The Godfather. Italy’s long patriarchal tradition is not without its dangers, as Verdi’s operas tell us again and again. But no one really understands Verdi, or Italy, who does not understand that tradition, for it shaped both country and composer.”

Perhaps our stage directors should, if they are able to, look deeply into the score, and not their own political agendas, when they try to reveal the secrets imbedded within these great works of art. Fortunately for us, no amount of “-isms” could destroy Verdi’s timelesswork of art. Even more fortunate for me, it was the musicians and singers who made Verdi’s masterpiece meaningful, not directors who think they know better.

Patrick May

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Seattle Opera's Il Trovatore - the primal emotions within all our hearts

It has often been said that it is easy to mount a production of Verdi’s Il Trovatore, all you need are four great singers. There is some truth in that rather facetious statement, because the vocal demands, as well as the range of emotions conveyed, are considerable. Verdi endowed each of the opera’s four acts with titles – “The Duel”, “The Gypsy Woman”, “The Gypsy Woman’s son”, and “The Punishment”. Indeed, these four acts (four movements?) of Il Trovatoreis almost like a gigantic string quartet, with the different voices of the main characters weaving in and out of the musical fabric. 

Seattle Opera’s production of Il Trovatorecertainly met the above criterion, for indeed all four of the principal singers were a match for each other in terms of vocal beauty and technique, as well as dramatic abilities. 

I was captivated by the effective set design – one basic set “dressed” differently for each act – but even more by the lighting, which I thought was magical throughout the afternoon. The tableau of opening scene, when Ferrando was narrating the tale of the killing of the old Count’s young son, reminded me so much of Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. The stage action of the soldiers, so full of vehemence, certainly set stage for the opera, and reminded us that this was really an age of violence – have we “evolved” since that time? 

The men and women of the Seattle Opera chorus did themselves proud in the many, justly famous, choruses, singing with strength and beauty, with dramatic conviction, and also a real sense of ensemble. In Act II, when Leonora was preparing to take her vows to enter the convent, the women of the chorus sang with a great sense of reverence.

The outstanding singing of even the “minor” roles of Ferrando (Adam Lau) and Inez (Nerys Jones) give an idea of the very high bar the company had set, and achieved, in this production. Lau’s lively and dramatic singing of the opening narration really brought the story alive.

Michael Mayes, singing the role of Count di Luna, initially had a veiled quality of his voice, but that soon disappeared, and he sang the rest of the opera with great dramatic intensity. His singing of “Il balen del suo sorriso” and “Per me ora fatale” was, respectively, passionate and full of violent emotions. According to opera writer, Father M. Owen Lee, the aria and cabaletta, “show him to be a sensitive but unduly sensual man, raised in chivalry yet – unlike his young brother, who was not given his advantages – utterly lacking in it. He knows his own weakness and admits it…” In this way, he is unlike the truly evil Scarpia who lusts after the beautiful Tosca. Mayes successfully portrayed di Luna as not a bad man, but one driven by his obsessive and possessive love.

It is truly amazing how beautifully Verdi writes for the Mezzo. Nora Sourouziant fits this role perfectly; in her voice and in her acting, she really embodies the many conflicting emotions driving this tortured woman. Her outstanding and dark-hued rendition of “Stride la vampa” was just one example of her considerable vocal and dramatic qualities in portraying this pivotal character, essentially the keeper of all of the story’s secrets, and maybe the only person who really understands the plot of the opera!

From the first notes we hear of Manrico’s, (“Deserto sulla terra” – he is alone on this earth) we knew that we were in the presence of a great singing actor. Martin Muehle’s voice is not a big one, but it is one endowed with a brightness, nuance, projection, and beauty. His rendition of “Di quella pira” was filled with a real sense of urgency and incredible tension. This outstanding artist was matched in every way by Angela Meade’s portrayal of Leonora. This is a truly bel cantovoice capable of an infinite degree of nuances. Her singing of “D’amor sull’ ali rosee” certainly elicited the greatest ovation from the audience last Sunday. 

Maestro Carlo Montanaro conducted with a real understanding of the Verdi idiom, a sense of atmosphere and forward motion, and supported the singers with sensitivity. If I could wish for one thing, it would be a greater sense of drive, intensity, even aggression in the orchestral playing – I believe these qualities are essential to a truly great performance of especially this opera. The playing on Sunday was, for me, almost too “nice”, thereby robbing the music of a certain degree of tension.

The stagecraft for this production is often very effective. When Azucena was telling the story of how she had mistakenly killed her own baby when her mother was being burned at the stake, the actions were enacted in the background in silhouette, against a flaming red background. The stage director employed this same piece of stagecraft at the end of the opera, when Manrico was being executed. In the final confrontation between Leonora, Azucena, and di Luna, the director had the characters in the background “frozen” in action, thereby really focusing our attention on the confrontation before us. 

As a whole, I personally find Il Trovatoreto be a more satisfying opera than, say, La Traviata. This is an opera where we find every facet of human emotions, and each of the four characters becomes archetypes embodying these emotions. In the words of Father Owen Lee, “Caught in their fixed attitudes, these characters are not, nor are they meant to be, true to life. They are emotionally charged symbols of life’s ironies.” Futhermore, the bitterness inherent in the entire opera is really a mirror of the composer’s own growing sense of pessimism and bitterness over the tragedies in his own life as well as the politics of the day.  

Perhaps this is why it is so satisfying to witness a production of this great opera, for could we not inevitably find in one or more of the characters some of the emotional turmoil within our own hearts?

Patrick May

Vancouver, British Columbia