This was a new production by Luc Bondy, with Karita Mattila as Tosca, Marcelo Alvarez as Cavaradossi, and George Gagnidze as Scarpia. All three sang and acted their parts with complete conviction, which made for a moving experience. Karita Mattila was a very jealous and emotional Tosca, even destroying her lover’s painting in Act I. Marcelo Alvarez was in glorious voice as Cavaradossi, showing passion and restraint. And George Gagnidze, whom I’ve not seen before, was riveting as Scarpia — his eyeballs at times being completely surrounded by the whites of his eyes —looking and acting like a controlling demon. Paul Plishka as the Sacristan in Act I performed like a weak little man fearful of anyone stronger.

A small difference from the usual staging was in Act II when Tosca kills Scarpia — she had secreted a knife by her side while lying on the couch awaiting his attentions, and thrust it into his groin, so the murder was not merely a spur of the moment decision. Another small difference was right at the end when she flees up the steps to the battlements — instead of throwing herself off, away from the audience, she threw herself forward from the tower, and the lights immediately shut off. It is difficult to know how effective this would be in the theatre — it might look a bit contrived since there had to be a harness to hold her back as the lights went out. But overall — and it really is the overall effect that counts — I thought the production was eerily dramatic.

The boldly stark designs by Richard Peduzzi were effective, and I very much liked the costumes by Milena Canonero. In Act I, Scarpia looked like an outsized beetle in the church, but why not, and later in Act II he was accompanied by three pretty whores, showing that this beetle had at least a strong libido. He is not simply a sadistic chief of police, and his desire for Tosca is more than a desire for sex — he wants to conquer her. The lighting by Max Keller was dark in Act I and very dark in Act III, never lightening up towards dawn, as far as I could see. Of course it is difficult to judge from a cinema screen, and it may have been the fault of camera work on a zoom lens, but the procession in the church in Act I appeared unnatural and looked as if it was almost on top of Scarpia. Such quibbles aside, I find it surprising that the production team was booed on the first night.

The music was well paced by Joseph Colaneri, replacing James Levine who is injured but had already conducted the first night.

Je le déclare officiellement: je suis désormais amoureuse du ténor argentin Marcelo Alvarez. J’arrive de voir Tosca en direct du Met au cinéma, et c’était vraiment superbe. Les trois interprètes principaux étaient renversants, mais lui, lui! Quelle voix, quelle expression, quel charisme et quelle présence sur scène!

Marcelo Alvarez dans Carmen

Les reportages en coulisses pendant les entractes sont fort intéressants, et on a eu la chance d’entendre une entrevue avec lui. C’est là que j’ai craqué pour de bon, car à son talent s’ajoute un charme irrésistible. L’opéra au cinéma est vraiment une formule gagnante, d’ailleurs, on a appris que c’est maintenant diffusé dans 42 pays (j’avais écrit “plus de 17″ dans mon article car c’était la dernière information disponible). Ces entrevues sont une occasion de découvrir les artistes sous un jour plus naturel et de les écouter parler de leur art.

C’est une idée géniale que les gens du Met ont eue de diffuser leurs productions à grande échelle. Plus de gens ont accès à l’opéra et plus de gens peuvent le découvrir pour la première fois dans des productions de très grande qualité. C’est l’un des meilleurs exemples de ce que la technologie peut faire pour rendre service à la culture.

J’ai acheté mes billets pour les huit autres productions, une façon très agréable de passer ses samedis après-midis maintenant que la saison de vélo tire à sa fin. Rendez-vous dans deux semaines, pour Aida, de Verdi. J’ai vu un montage de “previews” des prochains opéras, et ça promet d’être spectaculaire.

D’après ce que j’ai vu, les décors des prochains opéras seront plus beaux que ceux de Tosca, qui étaient sombres et un peu tristes. Mais on l’oubliait facilement devant tant de talent. Pour ceux qui ont manqué leur chance, il sera rediffusé intégralement le 31 octobre. La liste des cinémas participants est sur le site de cineplex.

FIASCO

“Tosca” at the Met.

by Alex RossOCTOBER 5, 2008

Karita Mattila, the Finnish soprano, was miscast in the title role.

It takes a certain effort to suck the life out of “Tosca.” No other opera in the repertory is so immaculately crafted to deliver its thrills on cue. Revolutionary sentiment seethes in royalist Rome; a famed diva, in love with a rebel artist, confronts a Te Deum-singing, sexually slobbering chief of police; the villain is stabbed with a dinner knife, the lover falls to a firing squad, the diva leaps to her death while screaming about God. Each act unfolds in real time, in precisely mapped locales, with no major improbabilities impeding the flow of events. The music is both refined and brutal, late-Romantic opulence pinned to raw action. If a director purchases sufficient quantities of papier-mâché to suggest the settings specified in the libretto, and if singers and orchestral players merely approximate the notes in the score, you are assured of a passable evening’s entertainment. If you happen to have Maria Callas and Tito Gobbi on hand to play the diva and the heavy, you get high-low bliss, like a B movie directed by Rembrandt.

“Tosca” has played at the Metropolitan Opera almost nine hundred times, and until last week, when a new staging by the Swiss director Luc Bondy was unveiled, the company pretty much stuck to the script. For more than twenty years, audiences swooned over a Franco Zeffirelli production, in which the Roman settings—the Church of Sant’Andrea Della Valle, the interior of the Palazzo Farnese, and the top of the Castel Sant’Angelo—were re-created in fanatically ornate detail. Like most Zeffirelli stagings of the eighties and nineties, it was a Cecil B. De Mille affair, with supernumeraries running amok. Nonetheless, it was handsome to behold, at times magnificently chilling. I was one of thousands mesmerized by a “Live from the Met” telecast in 1985, starring Plácido Domingo and the late Hildegard Behrens. I last saw the show in 2005, with Aprile Millo, one of the few working Toscas who have the right verismo bite in their voice, chewing up as much of the scenery as she could stomach.

When Peter Gelb took over as the general manager of the Met, in 2006, he made it clear that he wanted a more agile sensibility—opera as live theatre rather than diorama. Inevitably, he has begun to discard the Zeffirelli spectaculars that have long ruled the house. I might have started by getting rid of the chintzy “Traviata” or the cutesy “Bohème,” but Gelb was within his rights to go after “Tosca.” No production is sacrosanct, and connoisseurs have long complained that Zeffirelli isn’t nearly as faithful to the composers’ intentions as he likes to claim. We can be sure that Verdi would have loathed the idea of an extended pause for a scenery change in the middle of Act II of “Traviata.” Puccini almost certainly would have rejected a split-level approach to Act III of “Tosca,” with Cavaradossi, Tosca’s lover, singing about the stars in a dungeon. (Zeffirelli in his younger days was another matter: his direction of Callas and Gobbi in Act II of “Tosca,” as seen on a 1964 telecast from Covent Garden, is remarkable both for its attention to detail and for its ferocious formal control.)

By all means, then, let’s have a new “Tosca.” But it needs to be good. And this is not. Although Bondy has conceived potent stagings of “Salome,” “Don Carlos,” and Handel’s “Hercules,” among other operas, he has failed to find a clear angle on “Tosca,” and instead delivered an uneven, muddled, weirdly dull production that interferes fatally with the working of Puccini’s perfect contraption. Karita Mattila was miscast in the title role. No one else sang with particular distinction. By the end of opening night, Gelb had on his hands a full-blown fiasco, with boos resounding from the orchestra seats, the upper galleries, and even the plaza outside, where people had watched on a screen for free. You could almost hear Zeffirelli laughing from his villa.

The sets are by Richard Peduzzi. The church in Act I consists mainly of featureless gray brick walls, as if a gut renovation were under way. Historical cues are vague: Cavaradossi wears a modern-seeming raincoat, Scarpia’s henchmen are outfitted with what might be called Victorian psychedelia (top hats, dark granny glasses, canes), and Tosca enters in an eccentric thrift-shop assemblage of no obvious provenance. The lighting is dim without being atmospheric. All the same, the set serves the action, and an impressively sinister Te Deum procession closes the act: priests and altar boys advance in a thick crowd behind Scarpia—a chorus line of malignant power.

Things get goofy when we arrive at the Palazzo Farnese. At the start of Act II, Scarpia is attended by no fewer than three prostitutes. Such neon-sign direction condescends to singers and audience alike: are we too stupid to recognize that Scarpia is a lecher? (Gobbi said it all with his eyes.) Tosca’s struggle with Scarpia has a gutsy violence to it, but an awkwardly elongated stage layout saps the tension. The major gaffe of the night comes after Tosca kills Scarpia, when, according to the libretto, she places candles by his side and a crucifix on his chest. This business predates the opera, having been invented for Sarah Bernhardt in “La Tosca,” the play by Victorien Sardou, and it need not be retained. Yet something should happen during the thirty-bar postlude that Puccini composed for the ritual. And it should involve Scarpia, whose signature chords echo in the orchestra. Here Tosca climbs onto the windowsill, apparently with the thought of ending the opera an hour early; turns back to utter the line “Before him trembled all of Rome”; returns to the window; and then picks up the Marchesa Attavanti’s fan and retires to the couch. Tosca murders, then dithers.

PORTO ALEGRE (Mejor no hay que hablar) – Amanhã, ops, quis dizer hoje, andarei meio sumido do meio internético. É que os sábados de setembro têm sido todos bastante agitados, estou participando de um evento bacana sobre ditaduras, à tarde não vou estar em casa, etc. e tal. Talvez eu não consiga postar o que pretendia sobre os discos “avulsos” de Soledad. Ok, eu sei que prometi, mas paciência. Não os deixarei desamparados.

Enquanto não volto, deixo-os em excelente companhia. Esse aí do vídeo é Marcelo Alvarez, cantor erudito da Argentina que vem fazendo bastante sucesso há alguns anos. Alvarez gravou um disco muito bacana tempos atrás. O nome: “Sings Gardel”. Nele, o tenor gravou 13 grandes sucessos do “Zorzal”, com arranjos caprichadíssimos. A música de trabalho do álbum é Tomo y obligo, uma das minhas gardelianas prediletas. É ela que Alvarez canta neste clip com cara de show. Espero que gostem!

Starving Black Holes

http://news.yahoo.com/s/space/firstblackholesstarvedatbirth

Carlo Felice, i giovani per battere la crisi

È l`ultima spiaggia per il teatro genovese: solo quattro mesi di stagione, risparmi e nuovi talenti per non chiudere

GIORGIO DE MARTINO

Una stagione ponte. Un cartellone che arriva a dicembre, stringendo la cinghia, incrementando però il numero di recite e portando in scena giovani artisti, generosi per talento e modesti per cachet. Il Carlo Felice presenta l`attività settembre/dicembre 2009: due opere, dieci recite di “Rigoletto” in ottobre, nell`allestimento del Festival Verdi di Parma, e dal 27 novembre a fine anno “La vedova allegra” in una nuova produzione in collaborazione con Trieste, Napoli e Verona. Fra i due titoli, un balletto classico, il “Don Chisciotte” con il Ballet Nacional de Cuba. Per la sinfonica, sei concerti. E dopo? «Lo sapremo quando avremo le certezze sulle risorse finanziarie» spiega il commissario straordinario Giuseppe Ferrazza «mi auguro che per il 2010 arrivino buone notizie dal governo. Ma è impossibile programmare se non si sa quanti soldi saranno disponibili. Questo teatro è al limite della sopportazione patrimoniale: qualunque debito significherebbe chiudere. Mi auguro che la politica possa fare una riforma che ci permetta di andare avanti. Perché a parte le regioni a statuto speciale e centri privilegiati come Milano e Roma, gli altri teatri sono nella stessa nostra situazione». Tempi di crisi per la cultura. Un campanello d`allarme suonato persino dal presidente Napolitano. In  più il Carlo Felice paga lo scotto di una precarietà legata alla vicenda del fondo pensioni, che Ferrazza assicura troverà una felice conclusione entro luglio, e al fatto che attualmente la fondazione sia in fase di commissariamento. Ma la situazione è drammatica un po` ovunque. C`è chi, come Bologna, programma sei opere interamente realizzate con la propria accademia lirica, quasi a costo zero. Genova punta su «una stagione di investimento, dedicata alla valorizzazione di giovani artisti» spiega il direttore artistico Cristina Ferrari «un cartellone pensato nel contesto attuale di difficoltà economica, ma che darà i suoi frutti. Per i cast lirici, solo questo mese abbiamo selezionato oltre 150 talenti emergenti provenienti da tutto il mondo. Proporremo voci nuove, con la speranza che si rinnovi una tradizione di questo teatro, che ha lanciato artisti del calibro di Juan Diego Florez e Marcelo Alvarez». In attesa di abituarci a un cartellone che seguirà l`anno solare, dal l° gennaio al 31 dicembre, armonizzandosi forzatamente con i ritmi degli interventi finanziari, si fa di necessità virtù, con un 2009 che ha visto ridurre le risorse disponibili del 30 %, da 31 milioni a 22. Ma c`è davvero il rischio chiusura? «Il Carlo Felice è il simbolo della città: non si possano buttare via decine d`anni di lavoro» assicura Nicolò Scialfa, in rappresentanza del Comune «la nostra è una città in crisi, che ha perso 230 mila abitanti in vent`anni. Va rilanciato il porto, l`aeroporto e il teatro, che è insieme sostanza e simbolo. Quella del rilancio del Carlo Felice è la partita più importante che la città si sta giocando in questo momento. Il Comune malgrado il disagio in cui versa ha investito per tre milioni di euro. Eppure siamo di fronte a un “cupio dissolvi”: il governo deve decidere se quello di Genova è un teatro che deve essere declassato, oppure se siamo – come credo fermamente – uno dei cinque teatri più importanti d`Italia». Fatto salvo che giungano abbastanza risorse per sopravvivere, il commissario è convinto che il Carlo Felice debba comunque voltare pagina: «Bisogna aumentare e diversificare il pubblico. E nostra intenzione creare sinergie, anche con il teatro di prosa. Abbiamo in progetto di realizzare una “Opera da tre soldi” con Massimo Ranieri, ma sarebbe utilissimo anche rappresentare un musical come “Mamma mia!”. È necessario tenere aperti i nostri teatri non per sette mesi ma 365 giorni all`anno, come avviene all`estero». Parola chiave, secondo Ferrazza, la contaminazione: di generi e di pubblici, dal musical ai grandi spettacoli internazionali. Fra i segnali di un nuovo corso, la presenza al Carlo Felice di una piccola porzione di “MITO Settembre Musica”, che proporrà un concerto dedicato al Giappone. Si torna poi, dopo anni, a parlare di tournée: una a Montecarlo in dicembre, un`altra a Betlemme e Gerusalemme in occasione del Concerto per la pace che verrà riproposto dai media in mondovisione: vetrina della quale Genova ha particolarmente bisogno. I tour, fra l`altro, aprono il capitolo dei rapporti con i sindacati che sulle trasferte giocano sempre un ruolo ambivalente: da un lato le vogliono fare, dall`altro sono materia di contenziosi infiniti. Questa volta sono disponibili, visto che l`operazione verrà «pagata dai committenti». Allo stesso tempo, Ferrazza annuncia una revisione dell`accordo del 2008 «per contenere i costi in materia di organico». Uno sguardo infine agli artisti coinvolti nelle produzioni. Il teatro riaprirà il 12 settembre, per la notte bianca, con il concerto inaugurale diretto da Juanjo Mena. Poi si alterneranno nomi come il genovese Fabio Luisi e bacchette emergenti. Quanto alla lirica, per “Rigoletto” sul podio salirà il giovane Carmine Pinto, mentre nel ruolo dei protagonista ci sarà il baritono Alberto Gazale.

(Articolo pubblicato su “Il Secolo XIX” in data 23-07-2009)

El tenor argentino Marcelo Álvarez es una de las grandes figuras de la lírica en la actualidad. No posee ni una voz grande, ni una técnica depurada, ni es un estilista aventajado, ni posee un físico agraciado, pero a pesar de esto, tiene, y en dosis altas, tres ingredientes básicos para ser un divo: una voz muy bella, un canto comunicativo y entregado, y una fuerte personalidad escénica.

En este disco de finales 1998 la voz del tenor está fresca en todos los registros (todavía no había empezado a recrearse en papeles comprometidos para su voz), y su manera de cantar recuerda a la del joven Di Stefano o Carreras: a tumba abierta. Esto le genera algún sonido abierto en el agudo (cantado en forte) pero consigue que cada fragmento se convierta en una fiesta de canto a la antigua usanza.

En los fragmentos del Rigoletto está cómodo y juega al gran seductor (Questa o quella), al enamorado (Parmi veder) y está muy desenvuelto en La donna è mobile.

En las arias de Donizetti excele en la gran aria de Edgardo de la Lucia y en una excelente Furtiva Lagrima (cantada con unos sonidos de gran belleza).

Igual pasa en la escena de los Puritanos (A una fonte) donde la voz suena preciosa y emitida con una facilidad pasmosa.

Flojea en la Linda (donde uno no puede dejar de recordar la versión que nos regaló Flórez en el recital de hace un año y medio en el Liceu), y defiende con holgura las difíciles arias de Il Duca de Alba y la celebérrima Spirto gentil.

Un disco totalmente disfrutable de uno de los grandes valores de la lírica actual.

Álvarez, Marcelo – Bel Canto (CD)

1. Rigoletto: Questa o quella (1:47)

2. Rigoletto: Parmi veder le lagrime…Possente amor mi chiama (10:04)

3. Rigoletto: La donna è mobile (2:18)

4. L’Elisir d’Amore: Una furtiva lagrima (4:44)

5. Il Duca d’Alba: Angelo casto e bel (6:35)

6. I puritani: Son salvo…A una fonte (15:33)

7. Lucia di Lammermoor: Fra poco a me ricovero (7:18)

8. Linda di Chamounix: Se tanto in ira agli uomini (6:22)

9. La traviata: De’ miei bollenti spiriti…O mio rimorso (6:13)

10. La Favorita: Spirto gentil (4:50)

Welsh National Opera Orchestra – Carlo Rizzi

The idea of production effecting the opera at its core–a combination of words and music–came up in last week’s Monteverdi and Sant’Alessio viewing/listenings.  Which, natuerlich, got me thinking about opera in performance today, especially in light of Anne Midgette’s recent post in the WashPost’s Classical Beat.  Though talking about symphonies, a truly different beast, her central idea is a clear crossover:

“Of course, today’s symphony orchestra is essentially a 19th-century phenomenon; as Fischer said, it hasn’t fundamentally changed for 100 years. But what does it mean, in concrete terms, to change an orchestra? No one wants to throw the baby out with the bathwater and eliminate artistic standards, quality, the ability to play Mahler symphonies.”

This is light-years beyond where I’m at in the Opster Project, but I was in a Massenet mood this weekend and, while listening to the San’Sulpice scene from Manon, was struck at how many different ways this piece could be performed.  And, thanks to YouTube, I was able to sate my curiosity very easily.

There is the purely institutionalized version which, unfortunately, has to come out of the Met–the most famous opera company of the US, if not the world.  It lacks a modern edge and the performances of Vargas and Phlegming Fleming remind me more of two fat people wrestling over the last Milk Dud than it does of two people full of conflict, passion, and hormones a-go-go.  It was embarassing to watch this as they fought towards grandeur with every note, each in their own world and leaving the audience wondering where the fire was, where the passion was.

Not eager to further subject myself to Renaaaaay but interested in seeing as many points of view possible, this was a slightly more on-target production with a more minimal set and the added fire of Marcelo Alvarez, though again they lacked a certain connection that, while imperative in any opera, is uber-important when you’re doing a scene as former lovers, one attempting to reconcile, the other attempting to repent, fighting it out to see which one will win (spoiler alert: the soprano wins).

In one of my freshman theatre seminars, we read Grotowski’s “Towards a Poor Theatre,” which argued that theatre would never be able to compete with television and film in terms of grandeur, so the best theatre should go in the opposite direction entirely.  I sometimes think about what Grotowski would say to the Met, or at least the old, Joe Volpe/Rudolph Bing Met which was full of camels and chandeliers.  It’s upsetting to see our country, a country that was not a part of the creation of opera, still married to the “tradition” of grand theatre, a tradition that they more or less adopted from the European houses and a tradition that is, for the most part, all but dead in Europe.  There are some notable exceptions, and ironically not all of them have to do with age–this Sills/Price San’Sulpice is almost as old as Fleming (or at least Fleming’s birth certificate), yet it is focused entirely on the singers.  There is barely a set, but their energy fills the room.  Sills is sensual in a way that would still make some people call “scandale!” today.   It’s clear here that a production is a living, breathing thing and even the best set can be useless without the right singers/performers.

The two that really got me going, however, were both–ironically–with Anna Netrebko sliding into Manon in Vienna (with Roberto Alagna) and Berlin (with Rolando Villazon).  The Villazon shows restraint, particularly physically with the gates of San’Sulpice separating the lovers.  It’s cruel, acerbic, and spiteful, and ultimately worn down by Netrebs.  But she seems a tad out of place at times, for split seconds it’s as though she’s morphing out of Manon and back into Anna.  Not so with Alagna.  The violent passion mirrors, serves, and enhances Massenet’s score–what every opera production ought to do.  What’s more, it’s as hot as any Brangelina clip.  Show this scene to a bunch of 20 and 30 somethings and there won’t be a dry seat in the house.

And then there’s the one where they almost go too far to the other side, thanks to Natalie Dessay who, while bringing the crazy beautifully in the Met’s Lucia, seems to lack a purpose to her marble-tossing here.

Production study such as this is also innumerably helpful to singers, particularly in researching new (or at least new-to-them) roles.  Ultimately you want to create a character that’s true to your own self as much as it’s true to the composer and librettist.  There’s more than one way to skin a cat, there’s more than one way to sing Manon.  With only one exception, each of these Manons truly works in its own unique way.  The marketers and administrators for opera houses–and in most industries these days–talk about authentically connecting with new audience members/customers through copy, advertising, and the internet, but we also must remember that one of the other vital forms of authentic connection is through the performers themselves.

“Prima della prima” Raitre martedì 28 aprile 2009 alle ore 1.40 sarà interamente dedicata a Tosca, che ha trionfalmente concluso la Stagione Lirica 2009 del Teatro Regio di Parma. La trasmissione di Raitre di Rosaria Bronzetti che conduce i telespettatori nei luoghi sacri della musica colta italiana, ripercorrerà l’opera pucciniana di cui le telecamere di Rai Tre hanno seguito le prove di assieme e la prova generale e la racconterà come di consueto direttamente con la voce dei protagonisti: il soprano Micaela Carosi che interpreta il personaggio di Floria Tosca, il tenore Marcelo Alvarez che veste i panni del pittore Mario Cavaradossi, il direttore Massimo Zanetti, sul podio di Coro e Orchestra del Teatro Regio di Parma. In scena il baritono Marco Vratogna nelle vesti del sadico Barone Scarpia, Alessandro Spina (Cesare Angelotti), Matteo Peirone (Il Sagrestano), Mauro Buffoli (Spoletta) e Gabriele Bolletta (Sciarrone e Un carceriere). Il Coro di Voci Bianche è diretto da Sebastiano Rolli, il Coro del Teatro Regio da Martino Faggiani, nello spettacolo originariamente ideato da Alberto Fassini per il Teatro Comunale di Bologna e ora ripreso da Joseph Franconi Lee.  La regia televisiva della puntata è di Daniele de Plano. La Stagione Lirica 2009 del Teatro Regio di Parma è realizzata anche grazie a Fondazione Cariparma, al Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali, con il sostegno di Banca Monte Parma, Barilla, Enìa, Agricar Mercedes Benz, Melegari Home, Consorzio del prosciutto di Parma.

El 16 de febrer d’aquest any es va representar al Metropolitan de Nova York l’òpera Il Trovatore, de Giuseppe Verdi.

El repartiment era el següent:

Marcelo Alvarez (tenor) : Manrico

Sondra Radvanovsky (soprano) : Leonora

Dmitri Hvorostovsky (barytone) : Il Conte di Luna

Dolora Zajick (mezzo-soprano) : Azucena

Kwangchul Youn (bass) : Ferrando

Maria Zifchak (mezzo-soprano) : Ines

The Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra

Conductor : Gianandrea Noseda

Després de sentir la funció cal dir que encara es pot fer un Trovatore vocalment amb cara i ulls, malgrat que això no treu que en la funció hi ha més d’un incident (algú que vora el desastre, però salvat in extremis).

Repasant el repartiment s’ha de destacar l’Azucena de la gran (malgrat que ja comença a patir el pas dels anys en la seva veu) Dolora Zajick. La veu continua sent gran i poderosa, però comencen a notar-se els canvis de veu al variar els registres. L’actuació és acurada, sobretot en els moments de gran lluïmet (la narració al començament del segon acte), i decau en les parts més rutinaries. Està fenomenal en l’escena de la presó, i té un ensurt (una mena de agut cridat que es descontrola) en el duetto amb el Manrico (final de la primera escena del segon acte) per arriscar-se. Cal senyalar que no para tota la funció de fer singlots, suspirs i sorollets, al més pur estil d’una actriu de telenovela.

Us deixo un interessant video amb la narració d’Azucena per la Zajick, barreja d’assaig i representació.

Racconto d’Azucena (Zajick) “Condotta ell’era in cepi” Acto II, Escena I (Opera de Roma)

Continuant amb el repartiment ens trobem amb un Dimitri Hvorostovsky que fa un Luna monolític i amb una veu de timbre molt viril i verdià. El problema és que la veu ja no està en bones condicions i no respond a tot el que el cantant voldria. En primer lloc tendeix a tornar-se afona i va perdent volum al llarg de tota la funció (en el duo amb Leonora es nota ja una ronquera evident). A més, el frasseig es resent de problemas amb el fiato, que en l’aria “Il balen..” es fan notoris, amb unes aspiracions al final de cada frase que es senten més que la veu.

Aria Luna (Hvorostovsky) “Il balen…” Acto II, Escena II (Covent Garden, Londres)

El Manrico de Marcelo Alvarez és un cas claríssim d’un paper que supera les possibilitats del cantant. El tenor posa tota la carn a la funció, però clar, quan un força tant, pot sortir molt bé (com a tota l’escena final a la presó o a la Pira, que crec que està a to), o vorejar el desastre com al final de l’ària “Ah si ben mio” on només el talent d’un cantant com ell pot salvar les últimes frases. Crec que hauria de pensar en retirar aquest paper del seu repertori, perquè l’esforç requerit no el compensa i acabarà passant-li factura. Us deixo l’escena completa de l’ària i la Pira en una funció al Regio de Parma (que és l’equivalent en teatre d’òpera italiana a la Maestranza o Las Ventas als toros).

Aria de Manrico (Marcelo Alvarez) “Ah si ben mio” y “Di quella pira” Acto III, Escena II (Teatro Regio Parma, 2006).

Per últim la Leonora de la Radvanovsky, que potser amb la Zajick és la que està més correcta, si bé es una veu un tant lírica per fer una Leonora de manual. Té una veu potent i timbrada, que sap modular amb intel·ligència. Molt millor en la seva segona ària (D’amor sull’ali…) que al “Tacea la notte…” (on té un petit ensurt). En el següent video podreu comprovar la facilitat en l’emissió i el bon control de la veu que la permet apianar i modular amb gust amb molt bons resultats.

Aria de Leonora (Radvanovsky) “D’amor sull’ali rosee”. Acto IV, escena I (París) 

La resta del cast és més que correcte, amb una orquestra del Metropolitan de bon so ,però amb alguna pífia dels metalls (no dirigeix Levine!), conduïda per un Noseda bastant pla en la direcció però que porta la funció a bon port.

Com a últim video us deixo el duetto de Leonora i Luna per la Radvanovsky i Hvorotovsky.

Duetto Leonora-Luna “Mira, d’acerbe lagrime” (Moscú, 24-6-2008)

Link de descàrrega de l’òpera, per al que la vulgui escoltar:

Il Trovatore (Met, 16-2-2009)

Feia molt de temps que anava al darrera d’aquesta gravació ja que Ramón Vargas és l’únic Werther que jo he vist en directe ja fa 10 anys, al Teatro Real de Madrid.

La història és que un parell d’amics i jo van organitzar un viatge al Teatre Real al juliol de 1999, que feia poc que havia reobert les seves portes, per veure dues funcions que es prometien d’autèntic luxe: Samson et Dalila amb Plácido Domingo, i Werther amb Alfredo Kraus. El cas es que es va anunciar que Kraus suspenia totes les funcions per malaltia (gran decepció), de fet ja no va tornar actuar més, perquè com tots sabeu va morir al setembre d’aquell any.

Així vam anar a la funció una mica decebuts sabent que en lloc del mestre canari cantaria un tenor mexicà bastant jove, el Ramon Vargas, del que sabien que havia gravat un Tancredi amb la Kasarova feia uns pocs anys i que estava començant a guanyar-se fama mundial amb papers com el Rodolfo, el Duc de Mantua, Edgardo o Alfredo.

El repartiment de la funció incloïa la Charlotte de la Carmen Oprisanu (que s’haurà fet d’ella?), la Sophie de la Moreno i l’Albert de l’Enrique Baquerizo, dirigits pel mestre Julius Rudel.

El record que tinc de la funció és molt grat, i em va impressionar molt la veu i la tècnica de Vargas, que va fer una funció molt rodona (crec que tinc el vídeo per algun lloc).

Aquí us deixo com cantava la celebèrrima Porquoi me revellier (Acte III).

Porquoi me revellier (Vargas, Madrid 1999)

Poc després i de manera quasi simultània van sortir dues gravacions del Werther al mercat: una amb l’Alagna i la Georghiu dirigits per Pappano, i l’altra amb el Vargas i la Kasarova dirigits per Jurowski.

La de l’Alagna ràpidament es va convertir amb tota una sensació, amb tota la raó del món, ja que amb la de Kraus són, per mi, les millors versions en estudi de l’òpera.

La del Ramon Vargas no l’he sentit fins que me fet amb ella aquest dies.

La veritat és que la versió no és rodona, fonamentalment per tres punts febles:

El primer és l’erràtica direcció de Jurowski, amb molts contrasts i amb un so a empentes. Tallant o interferint moltes vegades en la línia dels cantats.

La presa de so, bastant opaca, tampoc ajuda gaire a ressaltar la rica orquestració i mil matisos de la partitura.

Per últim els cantats, que exceptuant lleugers moments, no entren en els papers amb tota la carn a la graella, sobretot en els duos entre Werther i Charlotte. Vargas i Kasarova cantant molt bé, però no hi ha gens de química i el resultat es bastant fred, comparat per exemple amb els magnífics duos de la versió Alagna-Georghiu.

Per que veieu un exemple de passió i química us deixo un link amb un fragment (continuació del aria anterior) de la màgnifica versió que van fer a Viena el apassionadíssim Marcelo Alvarez i la magnífica Elina Garanca.

Alvarez-Garanca en Werther (Acte III)

Cal dir que Vargas canta amb un molt de gust i tècnica, i la veu té un timbre maquíssim, però no arriba ni al romanticisme majestàtic i senyorívol d’Alfredo Kraus, ni a l’apassionament desbordant de l’Alagna. La Kasarova per la seva part aporta la seva veu timbradíssima, però està out. La resta del repartiment és digne.

Ara a veure si programen aviat un Werther al Liceu.

Com sempre més informació i links dels discos en el primer comentari.

Ma soprattutto, grazie Marcelo.
Fra i più grandi interpreti del tenorismo di sempre: come dice Raf, un Di Stefano dieci volte più bravo.

Although I dislike the pastel-coloured Seville recreated by Franco Zeffirelli for the Metropolitan Opera, I thought that maybe Olga Borodina could add some zest to the proceedings and tried my luck this evening. I am an admirer of this Russian mezzo-soprano, but I had the impression she might be too formidable for the role. However, as this truly special artist has done with many roles not easily associated with her voice and personality, she made it her own.

I don’t want to sound ungracious, but Borodina doesn’t have the figure and the legs of some singers previously featured in this production, such as Nancy Fabiola Herrera or Denyce Graves – but that does not faze her at all. As portrayed by Borodina, Carmen is neither flirtatious nor sluttish, but rather an affair of panache. Her forceful attitude, her appetite for life, her independence of character makes her rather a conqueror than a seductress – and that is a very good psychological point. It is also true that Borodina’s earthy mezzo-soprano has nothing French about it, but its endless repertory of resources is entirely used to make sure that both the music and the text are dealt with with intelligence and sensitivity. She handles the often abused grace notes with accuracy, scales down for velvety mezza voce when this is required and has amazingly clear French vowels. If I had to be critical about her singing, I have noticed since her last Amneris at the Met a certain harshness in her forte top notes that didn’t exist a couple of years ago.

The role of Don José fits Marcelo Álvarez’s dulcet yet strong tenor. Although his approach is a bit lachrymose (that was a bit of a turn-off in the Flower Song), he can hold an elegant line and, whenever he does it, it is always really pleasant in the ear. He is not a bête de scène, but – maybe because he comes from Argentina – he does rather well his macho routine.

Maija Kovalevska has a rather pretty sweet voice, a basic requirement for Micaela, but I have the impression she was a bit overparted. Some high-lying phrases sounded a bit tense and she had to compensate it a bit with “acting with the voice”. Truth be said, she was one of the most energetic Micaelas I have ever seen – I almost thought that nothing really scared her.
Lucio Gallo’s baritone has become rather juiceless these days, but he was able to keep focus in the role’s low tessitura, what is always a challenge to high baritones. All minor roles were excellently taken and ensembles certainly benefited from that.
From bar one in the overture, one could see that Emmanuel Villaume’s idée fixe was making it fast and exciting – in the end I’ve only really got the lack of polish. Some of Carmen’s most “colourful” pages do require a more sophisticated approach – otherwise it may – as it did – sound like small-town band music.

Dec 9, 2006 11:25 am
The Met season is off to a fantastic start. This week alone has heard Netrebko and Villazón in La Bohème followed by Siurina and Alvarez in Rigoletto (hear them on the live broadcast next week). So there is every reason to expect something good today. Idomeneo is one of my all-time favorites as well. I am looking forward to Magdalena Kožená, although I think her voice is perhaps better suited to other roles. I have never heard of Dorothea Röschmann but “Padre, germani, addio” may be my favorite moment in all of opera and so my expectations are high.

Com que l’home del temps va dir el dia 21 passat que havia arribat l’hivern, dijous 23 les senyores del Liceu ja hi van anar amb els abrics de pells. I no se’ls van treure. Van aguantar estoicament tota la funció amb els abrics posats. Tot i l’excessiva escalfor de la calefacció. La qual cosa deu voler dir que o estaven malaltones o que els abrics de pells no abriguen [Aquest comentari és més aviat irònic, evidentment].

A part dels abrics de pells i de l’activitat frenètica dels nois i les noies de vermell, dirigits amb mà fèrria per un eficient noi de negre, que no va parar de fer-los anar a amunt i avall durant els entreactes —la qual cosa era evident que els divertia molt, vista l’alegria com en rebien les ordres [aquest comentari també ho és, d’irònic]—, va ser una nit excepcional.

Excepcional pel descobriment d’una òpera que només coneixia fragmentàriament i del lloc i la funció exactes d’alguns dels seus fragments més coneguts: el Rigoletto, de Giuseppe Verdi. L’argument no és difícil de resumir: Rigoletto és el bufó de la corrupta cort del duc de Màntua, i no és el menys corrupte dels cortesans. Però té una filla, Gilda, a la qual vol mantenir apartada d’aquesta corrupció. El duc la veu a missa, se n’enamora i segueix la noia fins a la casa on viuen. D’altra banda, els cortesans, farts de Rigoletto, decideixen segrestar la noia pensant que és l’amant del bufó. Deshonrada la noia, Rigoletto decideix venjar-se.

Excepcional per les excel·lents veus dels cantants principals: la soprano albanesa Inva Mula en el paper de Gilda, el baríton Carlos Álvarez en el paper de Rigoletto, i del tenor Marcelo Álvarez en el del duc de Màntua (que, tot s’ha de dir, es podria haver esforçat una mica més a «La donna è mobile», potser per això va ser rebut al final amb una sonora esbroncada… d’un espectador).

L’escenografia no era excepcional però mantenia un bon equilibri entre el minimalisme excessiu (pobresa escènica, si ho preferiu) i absurd d’alguns dels muntatges que s’ha vist al teatre, i l’absoluta descontextualització d’altres. Una superfície giratòria amb unes parets semicirculars que anaven formant els diferents espais en què transcorre l’acció només en moure una paret. Al tercer acte canvia una mica: la casa d’Sparafucile i Maddalena elevada sobre el nivell del terra i l’espai buit, trist i desolat, ple de runa —com trist, buit i desolat queda Rigoletto al final— de l’escena final.

Excepcional també pel magnífic cor d’estossecs, esternuts i rasperes habituals al Gran Teatre del Liceu, i que diu molt poc a favor de la salut del respectable… o de la seva educació.

Il Trovatore is widely acknowledged as opera’s most ridiculous libretto – an opinion I do not share. If you know something about Spanish theatre, you happen to know that the idea is really going over the top – especially during the days of Romanticism. And I tell you – Spanish language does make the 100% emotionalism believable. Verdi was well aware of this – and denied no expressive tools to produce raw, gutsy depiction of strong feelings on the stage. If you try to polish the proceedings, then your Trovatore is a lost case.

I would not say that the Met’s new Trovatore is a lost case – there is a lot to be cherished there, but the overall impression is of misfiring. A new production has been ordered from David McVicar, who claims to have found inspiration in the paintings of Goya. I am sure he is telling the truth, but the staging looked just like every other Trovatore you have seen in your life. And this may mean that he was respectful to the libretto (a rare quality these days), but the politeness we could witness at the Met – that, I am sure, does not come from Goya.  One must recognise that McVicar tries to throw in some spice by adding some prostitutes to the Soldiers Chorus and by having his prima donna throwing herself on the ground, crawling and panting at the least opportunity – but everybody seemed to be working hard for intensity and also a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing. Intensity is something you cannot fake – if you do not have it, better go for dignity, something Italian operatic directors are well aware of.

As much as Gianandrea Noseda’s conducting showed a loving eye for the score, trying to highlight accompanying figures, to keep rhythms precise and flowing and to highlight dramatic gestures, the orchestral sound was too recessed to produce any kind of true excitement. Noseda was an attentive conductor for his singers, helping them in every moment of need – and keeping the orchestra in medium volume levels was essencial for a cast almost devoid of dramatic voices, but other maestros have been able to keep a brighter edge to their orchestral sound that keeps the sparkles going when sheer volume is impossible. I would mention Riccardo Muti’s live from La Scala, where a similar lighter-voiced casting was employed.

Sondra Radvanosky’s abilities as a Verdian soprano have always been an object of dispute.  It is undeniable that she fulfils some key requirement – it is a sizeable voice, capable of morbidezza (even if the tone is too veiled for this repertoire), flexibility, mezza voce and some stunning high notes (she took every optional in alt available and some more). However, her low register is not positive and projecting as the role requires, she is a bit challenged by trills (a fault shared by many a soprano tackling this role) and her soft singing is not always true on pitch. Her Tacea la notte was a bit uneventful and its cabaletta (reduced to one verse) was uncomfortable. On the other hand, she achieved some soaring efects in D’ amor sul’ ali rosee (although true abandon was not really there), showed real purpose in the Miserere and, a few notes barred, was quite impressive in Tu vedrai. What is beyond doubt is her intelligence, she has a good ear to find musical-dramatic effects in the writing of the role of Leonora, to chilling effects in her dying scene.

Dolora Zajick is an acknowledged Azucena and, although she was not in her best voice (the basic tonal quality seemed too nasal and somewhat recessed), she did not pull away from any challenge thrown by Verdi – she tried every trill in Stride la vampa, offered some big chest voice low notes and some really powerful top notes (she even tried a not entirely successful high c in her big scene with Manrico). Although her diction was a bit cloudy, she never refused her phrasing the necessary tone colouring and showed no problem with high mezza voce.  If I have some remark about her Azucena, it would be that, although her anguish was palpable, her madness seemed a bit artifficial and there was no sense of danger in her.

I had doubts about Marcelo Alvarez’s Manrico, soon dispelled. His medium volume lyric tenor has enough projecting quality for a big house and he phrases with such musicianship and good taste that you cannot resist him. One feels he is a bit cautious with the heroic moments, but he never produces an ugly or unmusical sound. I doubt there are many tenors around who can offer such a sensitive and dulcet-toned Ah, si ben mio these days. The problem is that Di quella pira does not come in the combo – even if the aria is transposed down a half-tone, he still feels uncomfortable about it. He commendably dealt with articulating the tricky divisions most tenor just glide through, but in order to achieve his matte high b, he had to let his interventions with the chorus unsung and the repeat was avoided. It is true that he was announced to be indisposed, but his problems with this fearsome aria seemed to be more an issue of Fach than of health.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky’s velvety baritone is still a treat to the ears – his stylish Il balen is an example of that – but his ease with big high notes is not entirely here anymore. He has charisma and gets away with some awkward moments – he is also the person with more panache on stage (although the stage direction reduced much of his menacing attitude).  Finally, Kwangchul Youn is glamourous piece of casting in the role of Ferrando.