Les Liaisons Dangereuses or Alcina's Enchanted Island

Ludovico Ariosto’s epic poem "Orlando Furioso" is one of world literature’s most influential works, having inspired artists and writers through the centuries down to 20th century comics, sci-fi movies and post-modern pulp fiction. The fantastic plot with ogres, dragons, sea monsters, valiant knights, damsels in distress, a flying island and a trip to the moon proved a goldmine for opera composers, too. Handel alone based three of his operas on it. Vivaldi was up til recently known as a composer of, as Stravinsky maliciously put it, 300 times the same concerto...But it was only a question of time until the operas of this prolific musician would be excavated from the archives where they had gathered dust for 3 centuries. Jean-Christophe Spinosi is one of the protagonists of the Vivaldi revival, and ever since he recorded “Orlando Furioso” to worldwide critical acclaim there had been talk of staging it. The Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris assembled the protagonists of this memorable recording this past march in a very elegant if sombre production by Pierre Audi. The Baroque theatre loved to put on lavish spectacles with a lot of machinery. Nowadays mechanical tricks have given way to psychological insight. So the setting was not an enchanted island but rather the somewhat morbid atmosphere of an austere Venetian palace where the wandering lovers are kept in a kind of claustrophobic “huis clos” under the control of Alcina. The magician of undetermined age – she could be several centuries old like Emilia Marty in “The Makropoulos Case” – is entangled in several dangerous liaisons with men whom she keeps in thrall with magic potions and manipulates according to her own wiles. The dramaturgy of the opera creaks a bit in the hinges like rusty stage machinery, as Vivaldi unlike Handel who wisely split up the convoluted plot into two operas (“Orlando” & “Alcina”) mixes the Alcina & Ruggiero story with the errant Orlando’s quest for his lost love Angelica who in turn is in pursuit of her own lover Medoro… Whenever things come to a seemingly unsolvable head enter Orlando raving and ranting. Marie-Nicole Lemieux in the title-role stormed and raged frighteningly, with never a note of the fierce coloratura awry! - upsetting the carefully arranged furniture in Alcina’s palazzo for which misdemeanour the lady of the house locked him up in a dark room! This nuisance removed for the time being Alcina can turn her full attention to her newest acquisition, the charming young knight Ruggiero, betrothed to Bradamante (who follows him disguised in men’s clothing) whom he callously forgets as soon as he sets eyes on the enchantress. Philippe Jaroussky as Ruggiero was the ideal personification of (male) innocence in danger, singing his transcendentally beautiful aria “Sol da te, mio dolce amore” with angelic voice, enchanting the enchantress and the audience alike. Alcina turns from temptress into helpless victim of an overpowering passion, and from this moment , when she shows real emotion, she starts losing control and her magic edifice begins to show cracks. Jennifer Larmore gave a first class impersonation of the sorceress, running the gamut from triumphant ruler over her magic empire with her fierce entrance aria “Alza in quegl’occhi”, via woman in love, “Amorose da rai del sole”, to growing fear and despair over losing her love and power at the same time in a poignant rendering of “Così potessi anch’io”. In the third act when all the characters are locked up in a kind of Hogarthian Bedlam she regaled us with a madscene that was worthy of Phèdre, simmering with quiet rage and despair, a real Racinian tragédienne! It was only consistent with a rather pessimistic reading of this piece that the director here changed the conventional happy ending of opera seria and has Alcina swallow poison. Orlando, in a strait jacket, remains locked in his own madness, and the others are left “smothered in surmise”, the knowledge dawning on them that nothing can be as it was before they got into this haunted palace; there is no returning to square one…With such a formidable performance in the central (if not the title) role it was difficult for the remaining singers to make much of an impact. This is again partly the fault of the composer/librettist who gave the roles of the comprimarii hardly any scope to develop full-bodied characterizations. Veronica Cangemi was a clear-voiced, touching Angelica; Romina Basso embodied her lover Medoro, sweet of voice and demeanour, and Kristina Hammarström an energetic and muscular Bradamante, Ruggiero’s betrothed,( who incidentally appeared more masculine than her rather girlish beloved). Christian Senn stood out as the only “proper” male voice in the whole ensemble, with a warm baritone ,making the best of the rather ungrateful role of Astolfo, Alcina’s discarded lover and helpmate in her intrigues.

Ensemble Matheus’ performance in the pit was dynamic and animated, you sensed the musicians’ familiarity with the score as they breathed fresh life into every note. “Historically informed performance” has come a long way since the first tentative experiments in the 1960s and 70s by the “pioneers”. Nowadays you have period bands that can produce as plush a sound as any traditional orchestra without losing any of the precision and transparency needed for baroque music. Spinosi's interpretation has lost some of its rough edges over the years, but none of its vigour and freshness.

So four hours (including two intervals) went by like nothing, and I shall never understand why people always mutter about the l e n g t h of Baroque operas but sit through 5, 6 hours of Wagner uncomplainingly!

Lady Valencienne's Fan

Not really caring for schmaltzy Viennese operetta I had originally had no intention of going to Geneva for Die Lustige Witwe/ The Merry Widow/La Veuve Joyeuse, especially as JL was not even singing the lead. But a short while ago I received a calling from above a faithful poodle could not ignore, so booked a ticket in the cheapest category, a flight (not so cheap on short notice) and a hotel room (probably cheap by Swiss standards) and set out in anticipation of a nice New Year’s Eve entertainment. I dimly remembered having been there before, 15 years ago, “L’Italiana in Algeri” at the Grand Théâtre, a party at a lakeside villa and a pair of black trousers being lost in transit (a subject of chaff among my friends ever since…this time I “played safe” and wore a skirt…)
The Merry Widow I had so far known only in the shape of the old Lubitsch movie starring Jeannette MacDonald and Maurice Chevalier. Of the Loy production it can be said that it was sober and decidedly un- schmaltzy – for which I was grateful. The setting was (apparently) a hotel-lobby, thirties-style, modelled on the entrance hall of the Palais des Nations. My fellow-Berliner Annette Dasch was in keeping with this anti-glamour interpretation in being a rather square and homespun Hanna Glawari. But who says that this role must be played like a “diva”?! The Vilja-Lied was rendered simply and touchingly, avoiding the pitfalls of kitsch of this “Wunschkonzert” number . Why the poor woman had to sing this clad only in bra and slip however was a twist of the Regisseur I could not quite follow. I shivered in her place although it was pretty warm in my seat in the gods. Johannes Martin Kraenzle was a dashing Danilo, his warm baritone belying his assumed rakish attitude. I was touched to see the great José van Dam again in the role of Baron Zeta after so many years whom I had admired in many performances at the Deutsche Oper in the 1970s.
Glitz and glam which this piece can after all not do without was added by JL in the role of Valencienne, wife to Baron Zeta, in this Genevan (i.e. cosmopolitan) version “an American from NYC with artistic ambition”. She got the most gorgeous dresses (and dessous!) and her rendition of Foolish Heart from Weill’s One Touch of Venus was a real show-stopper. Her admirer Camille de Rossillon was the young Swiss tenor Bernard Richter, fresh of looks and voice, whom she follows into the chambre séparée (all the while protesting that she is “a respectable wife!”, but only a woman of super-human virtue would resist such an ardently sung invitation!), and the almost Puccini-esque duet “Komm in den kleinen Pavillon” was another highlight of the evening. The whole intrigue here revolves around a lost fan, but whereas a lost handkerchief in “Othello” triggers a tragedy, a fan can pass through many hands and return to its owner without any harm being done. Still one should not trifle with these seemingly insignificant utensils. A fan might get lost irretrievably (like a pair of trousers) with dire consequences. But I digress…After all an operetta must have a happy ending: Valencienne remains an exemplar wife –transgressing only in doing a cancan in dessous –, Hanna gets her Danilo, safely depositing her millions in a Swiss bank, and they all live happily ever after to the tune of “Lippen schweigen, ‘s flüstern Geigen…”
I saw older members of the audience swaying (“schunkeln”) to the popular tunes remembered from their youth (and probably humming along inwardly). One elderly lady said starry-eyed (in German): “Das war ja ein richtiges Wunschkonzert!”
And, yes, I, too, got my money’s worth – although you are really being ripped off in that country: 16 chf for the programme, 2 chf for the coatcheck – and you could also book a posh New Year’s Eve dinner at 185 chf p.p. “Caviar to the general!” I say with Hamlet. Give me a decent Swiss fondue and I am with you! So the faithful poodle returned to the hotel without having got so much as a dog biscuit or a bone to gnaw upon and went to bed hungry. I think I now know why I’ve always preferred cats – they are independent, individualistic, wayward, unpredictable - and they never obey orders!

Quiet.

Why We Love Our Diva!

Riveting:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idZhLHu1SIk

Email the Met and ask why Jennie is not on their upcoming schedule:

http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/utility/contact/

The Splendours of Würzburg

The Würzburg Mozartfest was founded in 1921, which makes it one of the oldest music festivals in Germany; in fact it is only one year younger than the Salzburg Festival. Whereas Salzburg can boast of being the birthplace of “Wolferl” and the “Mozartkugel”, the composer only touched down once at Würzburg for a coffee break on the way to Frankfurt. As he informed his wife by letter he found the town “beautiful and magnificent”(“eine schöne, prächtige Stadt”). This verdict still holds true after more than two centuries. There is the pleasant site on the banks of the river Main meandering through vineyards; the mighty Marienburg castle dominating the townscape; the old Main bridge leading up to the towering Romanesque St. Kilian’s cathedral ; St. Mary’s Chapel on market square with the statues of Adam and Eve by Riemenschneider – and, of course, the famous Residenz Palace, arguably Germany’s most sumptuous Baroque palace, built by Balthasar Neumann, and a Unesco World Heritage site.



When you enter the palace you ascend the magnificent flight of stairs, Neumann’s most ingenious construction, where formerly royalty and prince bishops made their grand entrance, and your eyes go up to the vaulted ceiling decorated with Tiepolo’s brilliant “Technicolor” frescoes showing the four continents as they were known in the 18th century. America greets you as a shapely "Red Indian" woman sporting a colourful feather headdress and straddling an alligator! Asia and Africa float into view with turbaned figures riding camels and elephants and hunting the tiger. Such was the genius of the artist that you get the impression the whole painting is moving like a Cinemascope film, altering its shape with every step you take! The whole programme culminates in the triumph of Europe, leading in arts and culture (No, this is definitely no politically correct world vision!) We see Balthasar Neumann lolling on a cannon as if resting after the completion of his work and looking rather smug. Up in the left hand corner Tiepolo casts a rather detached glance at the world. The Weisser Saal gives your eyes and senses a rest in that it is only decorated with white stucco, and then you enter the Kaisersaal to be overwhelmed again by an explosion of colour and exuberant ornamentation. It is in this hall that most of the concerts of the Mozartfest take place and you involuntarily ask yourself how you will be able to concentrate on sound rather than sight in this room.



The aptly named Balthasar-Neumann-Ensemble has been appointed “orchestra –in-residence” to the festival as from this year. The programme on July 3rd and 4th consisted of bel canto arias and Schubert’s Great C Major Symphony. After a stirring rendition of Rossini’s “Guillaume Tell” overture by the ensemble under the baton of Thomas Hengelbrock, Jennie swept into the hall and sang a rousing drinking song (“Il segreto per esser felici”) from Donizetti’s “Lucrezia Borgia”, Romeo’s fiery and at the same time pleading “Lieto del dolce incarco” from Bellini’s “I Capuleti ed i Montecchi” and “Nacqui all’affanno” from “La Cenerentola”, touching in the beginning and triumphant in the “Non più mesta” section. The vocal fireworks earned our diva a mighty cheer which led to an encore, a totally unexpected aria from Mascagni’s little-known opera “Sì”, apparently Thomas Hengelbrock’s choice and which he announced as dealing with a woman who couldn’t say NO! This piece was a very simple and moving aria of regret and farewell, which Jennie sang with sincerity of feeling and beauty of tone. After the break the Balthasar-Neumann-Ensemble gave a riveting performance of Schubert’s C Major symphony which had me on the edge of my seat. I said to our diva - next to whom I had the honour of sitting on the second evening – that it was a long time since a rendering of this my favourite symphony had swept me so completely away from the opening bars to the last note! The strings were luscious, the brass brilliant, the woodwinds hauntingly beautiful and the basses virtuosic (especially the leader). I don’t think there is a recording of this symphony in “HIP”, so I hope this masterly interpretation will be made available on cd later. To sum up, two exhilarating concerts which kept me humming snatches of Schubert intermingled with Donizetti and Rossini for days to come. And in the end I was not distracted by the gaudy splendours surrounding me. Gorgeous as this hall is, I have to say that it is not an ideal setting for big orchestral concerts. The acoustics are problematic (to say the least), the orchestra was crammed on a way too small platform (some musicians were standing up all the time) and the heat was oppressive (there being no air conditioning), and the windows had to be kept shut because of the noise made by rioting soccer fans in the town!

Fit for a Queen (or How Jennie Kicked Hamlet's Butt)

I rarely attend opera these days, but when the opportunity arose to be in NYC while Jennie was engaged to perform in Ambroise Thomas' Hamlet, I scrambled to make reservations, order tickets and turn in my coins in order to get my sorry ass to my old stomping grounds. Since arriving in Los Angeles 7 years ago, I’ve found my opera experiences to be simply ok; nothing great, an occasional good performance here or there. As the night approached, I had a feeling this was going to be a good experience. Natalie Dessay came to her senses and thankfully cancelled the entire run as Ophelia, so good luck was on my side. I didn’t care who sang Ophelia because I was there to see our mezzo as Gertrude. For me, this would be the first time I’d seen her in a staged role in almost 8 years. I was overdue.

view from our seats

Since I suffer from pre-movie and opera jitters, we arrived at the Met extra early to use the facilities and wander around our old home-away-from-home. The buzz was good. We got to our seats, saw the same old, wrinkly faces I saw 7 years ago and was comforted by the Met’s garish gold leaf ceilings, chandeliers and tightly fit seats.

The overture begins and Gertrude is the first character we see walk across the foot of the stage. Jennie not just walks, but manages to capture everything her character will endure, all in a few regal steps and one quick, heartbreaking stare. This alone should win her an opera Oscar. Her receding hairline wig that was plastered over the papers a week before was gone and she was beauty personified, along with some major cleavage.

Gertrude and cleavage

I have no problem saying Jennifer kicked-ass, old school, as Gertrude. She was completely in character and on some other plane every moment she was onstage. Every stare, every movement had meaning. Her singing came from a deep place, easily audible from our modest seats and she seemed to be the only singer whose French diction and French style was near perfect. She sank her teeth into every word and we hung on every one. The confrontation scene was reminiscent of The Miracle Worker dinner fight where Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke fling themselves across the room. It was riveting and I was frozen on the edge of my seat.

Jennifer Larmore as Gertrude encompassed all that has been missing in opera these days. This was grand opera and her performance was a tour-de-force; completely over-the-top, exaggerated and deeply moving. My partner turned to me during the curtain-call and asked, “Do you know how good she was?” Um, yes…I was happy to see others in the audience and in the press agreed. I hope the Met understands what they had in her Gertrude. The few naysayers who still refuse to see what the fuss is all about can simply go fuck themselves. I’ll be watching the broadcast and hopefully buy the DVD and in years to come will be thankful this artist will have endured the test of time. I am one happy camper.

curtain call

"Lulu, mein Engel..."

Twelvetone music of the Second Viennese School is not for the faint-hearted. So it was with some trepidation that I went to the Royal Opera’s new production of Alban Berg’s “Lulu” despite having done my homework - and taken a large dose of Handel at the Halle festival to brace me for the coming…ordeal! But I need not have worried: the story is thrilling and the music has its own hypnotic pull, so that the piece grips you after a few minutes and you are carried along like in a Hitchcock movie! The radically minimalist production by Christoph Loy was at once demanding and enlightening with its stress on the psychology of the characters, having no props, gadgets & gimmicks to divert the attention of the audience, but forcing singer-actors and spectators alike to concentrate on a stringent development of the fateful events of this gloomy drama.

The picture of human nature at its most seedy, sordid and depraved that Frank Wedekind painted in his "Monstertragödie", made up of the two plays “Erdgeist” and “Die Büchse der Pandora”, is not an edifying one, and it is difficult to identify or sympathize with any of the characters. It is a satirical street ballad in the vein of Hogarth’s set of engravings entitled “A Harlot’s Progress”. Even if Berg softened Wedekind’s satirical venom, this is not “La Traviata” where you can suffer with the consumptive heroine and cry your eyes out over her sad end. Of course, taken literally, “Traviata” means “gone astray”, and in this sense Lulu is a latter-day Traviata, minus all the sentimental trappings Dumas & Verdi had to clad the story in to make a prostitute as heroine palatable to mid-19th century audiences. 50 years later Wedekind still encountered the same difficulties, the censors allowing only private performances of his plays for a handpicked audience.

When Berg decided to set the plays to music the situation had become even worse. After 1933 there was no chance of seeing an opera with such an obscene subject performed on a German or Austrian stage. The fact that twelvetone music was now declared un-German and "entartet" (degenerate) didn’t make things easier for the composer. At his sudden death at the age of only 50 he left the opera unfinished, and the torso was premiered in Zurich in 1937. It was only in the 1970s that the Austrian composer Friedrich Cerha undertook the completion of the third act on the basis of Berg’s drafts, and this version, premiered in Paris in 1978, has since become the accepted one.

The title-role poses enormous difficulties for a soprano, vocal as well as physical. It is no showpiece for a blasée primadonna, but the singer who undertakes it has to be prepared to commit herself totally - body and soul. Berg saw the character as the female pendant to Don Juan, only that her female sexuality is less overtly aggressive than the Don’s. But her manipulative wiles nevertheless wreak havoc among the persons who come near her, men and women alike. Wedekind wanted her to be played “like the Madonna”, so the reviewers who found fault with Agneta Eichenholtz’s impersonation because in their eyes she was not femme fatale enough missed the point entirely (in my opinion at least). Die Urgestalt des Weibes is a cipher, a blank canvas onto which everyone can (and does) project their own desires and fantasies. Lulu is neither angel nor demon but becomes what successive lovers want her to be.
Agneta Eichenholtz looked like Snow White, totally innocent and harmless, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, which made her rendering of the lines “Wenn die Menschen sich für mich umbringen, dafür kann ich doch nicht!”all the more chilling. She impersonated this “somnambulist in the field of love” (“Nachtwandlerin der Liebe” - Karl Kraus), who floats through life aimlessly and like an automaton, without taking notice of her surroundings, to perfection. Vocally she was also up to the challenge, her light girlish timbre matching her ingenue looks.

Of course, “Lulu” is an ensemble piece and the ROH had come up with a formidable array of first-class singers for all the other parts. Michael Volle made a very strong impact as the doomed alpha male Dr. Schön who, in vain, tries to assert his authority over Lulu and is manipulated by her into marriage and subsequently killed. His strong voice and robust physique stood in stark contrast to his emotional and psychological helplessness. Here was a fall indeed! In the end he gets his revenge when he returns as Jack the Ripper to finish Lulu off! Klaus-Florian Vogt had the right anodyne voice for Dr. Schön’s weakling son Alwa; Will Hartmann gave a touching performance as the guileless painter; Philip Langridge was equally convincing as the Prince who sees in Lulu the ideal wife and the sinister Marquis who threatens to sell her to an Egyptian brothel; Peter Rose (whom I remember as a great Basilio in the unforgettable “Barbiere” at Berlin Staatsoper with Jennifer Larmore, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, William Matteuzzi and Carlos Chausson in 1994!) as the animal trainer of the prologue and the athlete added a humoristic touch and reminded one that “Lulu” is also a comedy of sorts; Gwynne Howell was the shady Schigolch, the evil spirit, like Hoffmann's Dappertutto, who mysteriously seems to pull the strings from behind the scenes.

Which leaves only one character still to deal with: Gräfin Geschwitz. According to Wedekind she is "the tragic central character” (“die tragische Hauptperson”) of the piece; she loves Lulu unconditionally and “in an act of superhuman self-sacrifice” follows her to the bitter end. Apparently Christoph Loy took Wedekind at his word and made every effort to show the countess as the single sympathetic person in this array of freakish characters. In an interview he said that he didn’t want a cliché lesbian but “a feminine and attractive Geschwitz, a delicate creature, but one who is consistent in her actions. She remains true to her love for Lulu even though Lulu increasingly turns away from her.” To make his point Loy even went so far as to alter the final scene and lets the countess escape the Ripper’s knife: “I really feel that Geschwitz’s murder doesn’t need to be recounted. I’d be happy for her to survive, so that at that moment the Utopian element in the music also becomes a factor in the plot – so that tenderness and love can survive.” Hmmmm…I have to confess I was not entirely happy with this solution; although the effect of countess Geschwitz delivering her final lines “Lulu, mein Engel…” standing up, like entranced, with a spotlight from above illuminating her face was quite stunning and even otherworldly. But in my view there is nothing Utopian in this most bleak and gloomy piece and there can be no survivors.

What did Jennie make of this part which at first sight seems a very odd choice indeed for her, given her credentials as a Baroque and belcanto singer? How would she, the charming Rosina, the touching Angelina, the pert Isabella, the imperious Caesar, the tomboyish Hansel, the sultry Carmen, the lovelorn Marguerite fare as the doomed lesbian countess? Well, I can say she scored a resounding success! Critics were unanimous in their praise for her humane, sincere, touching and intelligently-nuanced interpretation. (See the listing of quotations below.) She was utterly convincing in her acting and in her singing, avoiding all caricature, delivering even cliché-laden lines like “Ich muß für Frauenrechte kämpfen, Jurisprudenz studieren.“ (Beware! No „normal“ woman would do such a thing!) with conviction. Even M. Brug, the often venomous critic of “Die Welt”, was bowled over (my translation): “The biggest surprise was Jennifer Larmore, the well-known queen of Rossini roulades: she impersonates countess Geschwitz as truly loving (“aufrichtig Liebende”), with sparing gestures to great effect, moving in every nuance of her singing.”

In short, her portrayal was an utter triumph and she can add another role to her still growing repertoire. I who had heard her only a couple of days before in a concert of Handel arias at the Halle festival was amazed how she could switch so seemingly effortlessly between Baroque and twelvetone music.

Last but not least, the excellent orchestra of the ROH, under the baton of Antonio Pappano, contributed to the success of this staging by delivering this complex and intricate score with eloquence and passion, emphasizing the lush Mahlerian qualities of this rhapsodic music, so that I who had entered the opera house with some misgivings came away utterly enthralled. I have climbed Mount (Berg!) Everest of twelvetone music and now new horizons have opened up before me.

And I am happy to report that this memorable performance was recorded and will later be made available on dvd!