OPERA TO DIE FOR

Michael Pilafian, Edgar Jaramillo, Tate Chu, Judith Fredricks, and Joseph Flaxman

What a clever title for a program of opera scenes, all of which dealt with death. Actors relish dying onstage and apparently so do singers.  Last night's recital by Opera New York, helmed by Artistic Director Judith Fredricks, gave us lots of great music performed by a group of excellent young artists.

The first three scenes were extracted from Verdi operas, so you know the music was good-- but also challenging for the singers, who uniformly rose to the occasion.

In Ballo in Maschera, Riccardo, the Governor of Boston, meets his bloody end at the hands of his Secretary Renato, who has joined in the assassination plot because he learns of Riccardo's love for Amelia, his wife. Amelia tries to warn Riccardo, to no avail.

Edgar Jaramillo's warm tenor was perfect for the role of Riccardo and his bloody death by stabbing was convincing. Soprano Courtney Delisle made a fine Amelia; baritone Joseph Flaxman did well as Renato, and soprano Xueyan Fan opened the scene as Oscar, the page.

Opera New York has frequently put the Act IV quartet from Rigoletto on their programs, but this is the first time they have performed the final scene in which Gilda dies in the arms of her father. The actual stabbing had occurred earlier in the act at the hands of the assassin Sparafucile.

Here, we were able to get a better appreciation of the skills of Ms. Fan who went from the frisky Oscar to the tragic Gilda. The handsome Mr. Flaxman did a great job of hiding his assets under a black cloak and transforming himself into a hunchback. Mr. Jaramillo gave us some "La donna è mobile" from offstage and sounded great. Whoever was responsible for lighting (uncredited in the program) put the scene in the dark with flashing lights successfully creating the illusion of lightning.

In the third Verdi scene, extracted from Don Carlo, baritone Roberto Borgatti performed the role of the heroic and loyal Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa, who "takes a bullet" for his friend Don Carlo. We enjoyed hearing his "Per me giunto" and "Io morrò", happily recalling the time we heard Hvorostovsky sing the role at the Met.

The last operatic selection was the final scene from Gounod's Faust in which Marguerite, imprisoned for killing her newborn, of which Faust was the father, is visited by Faust and Méphistophélès. Soprano Tate Chu has a lovely instrument and was convincing as the unbalanced Marguerite. Mr. Jaramillo demonstrated his versatility by singing Faust in excellent French, and Mr. Flaxman created a devilish devil, dragging Faust away in a move reminiscent of the Commendatore dragging Don Giovanni to hell.

We even had organ music from Walter Hartman joining the offstage chorus for that uplifting spiritual moment. Otherwise, pianist and Music Director Michael Pilafian accompanied the singers with his customary professionalism.

All that death and dying was relieved by Scott O'Brien singing "If I Can't Love Her" from Alan Menken's Beauty and the Beast, and the dazzling coloratura of Jennifer Ter Keurst animating "Glitter and Be Gay" from Bernstein's Candide, an aria that always leaves us happy and humming

(c) meche kroop

TURANDOT--SENZA PING PONG

Joseph Flaxman, Michael Pilafian, Therese Panicali, Judith Fredricks, Edgar Jaramillo, and Xueyan Fan

Tomorrow we will be listening to the broadcast of Turandot from Chicago Lyric Opera on WQXR; we don't expect to enjoy it nearly as much as we enjoyed Opera New York's production, heard last night at the Church of the Sacred Heart. 

Artistic and Stage Director Judith Fredricks produced a slightly abbreviated version of this beloved opera (Puccini's last and not-quite-finished score which premiered in 1926), omitting the scenes with Ping, Pang, and Pong, as well as the decapitation of the Prince of Persia. We find producing Turandot to be a brave choice; but if you have the voices, why not?

There were no projected titles but the enthusiastic audience received a program with a summary in English; a narrator spoke the summary in Spanish for the Spanish-speaking members of the audience. The opening decrees were spoken in English by Robert Montgomery.

The piano reduction was played by Michael Pilafian, who has played for many of Opera New York's productions. To our great surprise, soprano Elena Heimur played the other orchestral parts on the organ, situated above and behind the audience. Not a day goes by that we don't learn something new about the singers we love. So Ms. Heimur's proficiency at the organ simply dazzled us.

Ms. Fredricks' stage direction made the most of the space, utilizing the rear gallery and the aisle. We were so busy listening to the grand voices that we barely missed the huge spectacle provided at the Met. What we gained was a feeling for the intimate relationships of the four main characters. Behind the lavish sets and costumes, this is really a family story.

Our newbie guest wanted to know how father and son came to be separated and then reunited in a foreign land. We couldn't answer but we could certainly make up a back story. Se non è vero, è ben trovato!  Here goes!  Son went off to find his fame and fortune and a princess to be his bride.  Father lost his sight and was deposed and thrown out of his kingdom; wandering into the neighboring kingdom, he ran into his son on the street. He was being led around by his loyal and devoted slave girl who loved Calaf the Prince because he once smiled at her.  (OK folks, how'd I do?)

Calaf, sung by tenor Edgar Jaramillo with rich full tone and ringing high notes, is headstrong like many young men we know. He gets a glimpse of that radiant celestial Princess Turandot and is determined to win her, even with the risk of losing his head, like so many previous Princes had.  Of course, his helpless father is threatened and tries to dissuade him. Unsuccessfully. Mr. Jaramillo was exceptional in "Nessun dorma".

This icy Princess Turandot is bearing the weight of #MeToo. Because an ancestor of hers had been sorely abused and murdered, she is a real man-hater, eager to decapitate all comers by challenging them with difficult riddles. In this role, it was a pleasure to hear dramatic soprano Therese Panicali whose huge authoritative voice limned the character of Turandot in "In questa reggia". The fact that she is young, slender, and beautiful made Calaf's willingness to take the challenge more believable for us. We count ourself among those who want casting to be believable. She was even believable in her change of heart at the end, even without support from Puccini's pen.

The turning point for Turandot is Liu's willingness to take her life rather than reveal Calaf's name. She is being tortured by Turandot's minions and stabs herself so that she won't cave. In this role, soprano Xueyan Fan was also totally convincing. She did an excellent job of conveying the deference of a slave, while singing in impressive Italianate style. Of the entire cast, her role is the most sympathetic. We loved her "Signore, ascolta".

As the blind father Timur, Joseph Flaxman also did a fine job with great singing and some very effective simulation of blindness as he crouched over his walking staff.  Since the singer is young and handsome, this represented a triumph of acting.

This Turandot rested on the artistry of the singers. There were no sets and the costumes were rudimentary, but they worked. The small chorus (Brooke Dobossy, Betsy Cangelosi-Lind, Umberto Ross, and Patricia Ruiz) contributed to the success.

New York is replete with small opera companies, each with a unique approach. Unfortunately, we do not have affordable small theaters and these companies have been finding homes in churches. The surroundings are beautiful but the acoustics are spotty and one's auditory pleasure rests upon finding a seat in just the right spot. Won't some captain of industry build a small theater? We can just imagine how much that would improve the cultural landscape of New York City!

(c) meche kroop

A FORGOTTEN MASTERPIECE DISCOVERED

Maestro Israel Gursky and the cast of Vittorio Gnecchi's Cassandra

If ever a neglected work merited unearthing Vittorio Gnecchi's Cassandra fills the bill. Thanks to the efforts of Teatro Trattacielo's Founding Executive and Artistic Director Duane D. Printz, New York City's dedicated opera lovers had the opportunity to hear this work in concert form at the highly suitable Gerald W. Lynch Theater at John Jay College of Criminal Justice (part of CUNY).

There was a crime of sorts in the suppression of this magnificent work, the result of a scandal of plagiarism in which those taking the part of Richard Strauss (but not Strauss himself) accused Gnecchi of plagiarizing his 1908 Elektra, in spite of the fact that Cassandra premiered in Bologna in 1905! Significantly, Toscanini himself conducted the premiere. Italian musical politics were really something! They still are.

Luigi Illica's libretto was adapted from Aeschylus' Oresteia and deals with the part of the story of the fall of the House of Atreus in which Agamemnon returns as a hero from the Trojan war, bringing as concubine the seeress Cassandra.  

In Agamemnon's absence, Clytemnestra has been frolicking with her husband's brother Aegisthus. She apparently truly loves her brother-in-law but is also seeking revenge against her husband who had sacrificed their beloved daughter Iphegenia to secure favorable winds to carry him to Troy to fetch the naughty Helen who had run off with Paris.  Sounds like a telenovela, right?

As in Puccini's Turandot (of which we heard echoes in the music), the titular character does not appear until Act II. But she is worth waiting for! This is a superb role for a mezzo-soprano and Alessandra Volpe fulfilled the task with magnificence and a large dusky sound that made her prophesies poignantly terrifying. Her generous tone cut through the orchestration like a warm knife through butter.

The entire cast was well chosen and there wasn't a disappointing voice in the bunch. Soprano Elena O'Connor made a stunning Clitennestra, showing her character's rage in her first aria "No, non propiziarie preci!". We enjoyed the change of colors when she sang of her love for Egisto.

Her romantic duets with baritone Shea Owens as Egisto involved overlapping voices and thrilling harmonies.  And we loved Mr. Owens' aria "Il Fato volge in suo turbine". When Agamennone returns in triumph the crowd welcomes him but Egisto sneers in "Udir cantare Agamennone, e ridere!"  The subsequent confrontation between the two brothers is powerful and dynamic.

The role of Agamennone is a difficult one and veteran tenor Arnold Rawls tackled the punishingly high tessitura with aplomb. His return to Argolis is marked by the sweetest sound, as if he is totally unaware of the tragedy to come. 

Baritone Stefanos Koroneos has never sounded better than he did singing ll Prologo with superb diction, making every word count and elucidating the story, which is more than we can say for the choruses. The New Jersey Choral Society and The Connecticut Choral Society, along with the Festival Youth Chorus, lay down a lovely carpet of sound but did not have the crisp diction to which we are accustomed.

In several roles, soprano Meredith Mecum made a fine forceful showing with a brilliant tone; we particularly enjoyed her brief solo as Una Coèfora "Placato mare ed aera placato!"  Baritone Joseph Flaxman excelled as Il Fazionario (The Guard). Baritone Peter Kendall Clark came across well as Il Navarca as did Jon Tetelman in a tenor solo. Young Nicholas Newman piped up as the child Orestes, requesting his father's sword.

One could consider the star of the evening to be conductor Israel Gursky who brought out the many nuances of this impressive score.  There is nothing shocking about the chromatic harmonies but there was ample lyricism to satisfy our 19th c. ears. One could identify Puccini-esque elements in the opening Prologue.

The introduction to Act I was particularly lyrical when a lovely melody floated through the sections of the orchestra on gossamer wings. We loved the portentous sound at the end of Clitennestra's rage aria, not to mention the use of the harp when Egisto sings of leaving Clitennestra.

As Agamennone approaches by ship, Maestro Gursky guided the orchestra into a recreation of the surging sea.  Upon his arrival at Argosy the music is triumphant with brass. The orchestra gives us the full monty at the bloody conclusion.

Whew!! This powerful story was given the exactly right music by Signor Gnecchi and the opera was given the exactly right production by Teatro Grattacielo.

It's too bad we must wait another year for more of Grattacielo's discoveries.

(c) meche kroop

JUST A SIMPLE "WORKING GIRL"

Siberia at the turn of the 20th Century

We recently wrote about how a good concert version of an opera can be a very pleasurable experience.  Last night, Teatro Grattacielo's yearly entry in the verismo opera sweepstakes was Umberto Giordano's Siberia, an interesting and mostly satisfying evening for the opera lovers who crowded into the comfortable Gerald Lynch theater at John Jay College. 

This opera premiered at La Scala in 1903 and was not a hit, although it did receive positive notices in Genoa and Paris and reached the New World in 1906 by way of the French Opera House in New Orleans, where so many European operas got their American start.

The libretto is a bit strange (Thanks, Founding Executive and Artistic Director Duane Printz, for a fine translation), not making many issues clear until late in the opera. One would expect more from the fine librettist Luigi Illica who served Giacomo Puccini so well; it is unclear whether the libretto is his original creation or whether he adapted the story from Leo Tolstoy's novel Resurrection.

Perhaps this early 19th c. story might have made more sense to the early 20th c. audience who witnessed it. The tale concerns the beautiful Stephana, mistress of the young Prince Alexis who has furnished her with a beautiful palace and servants and gifts. We do not figure out until much later that the disagreeable Gleby discovered the poor young woman on the streets, recognized her beauty, seduced her, taught her the ropes (so to speak), and sold her to the Prince in exchange for a liberal pension.

It is, of course, in Gleby's interest to ensure her availability to the Prince and he is distressed when she stays out all night. The reason for her failure to live up to her duties is her true love for the soldier Vassili who thinks she is an ordinary working girl of the innocent variety, not the kind of "working girl" she really is.

She has kept her palatial home secret but young Vassili, called to war, comes to the palace to bid farewell to his mother (or so we think) and discovers Stephana who is upset to be found out. Alexis is also upset by Vassili's presence and the two draw swords. Alexis is either wounded or dies.

Vassili is sent to prison in Siberia and Stephana follows him (in a troika and swathed in furs) having given up her glamorous life. This seems to be partly out of love and partly to seek redemption.

Life in Siberia is virtually unendurable but she loves it there because of her love for Vassili and a renewed sense of purity she feels.  But the lovers plan to escape and are caught, perhaps because the jealous Gleby has also arrived at the prison and rats her out (or so we think). She is shot and dies (happily) in Vassili's arms.

Undoubtedly, the libretto could have been more clearly written. Nonetheless, the music is gorgeously orchestrated and was superbly sung by a really good cast. The deservedly famous tenor Raul Melo sang with clear ringing tone and high passion. Stephana was gloriously sung by soprano Marie Masters whose star is on the rise. The strange and undeveloped character of Stephana was effectively filled in by this fine young artist.

Highly impressive as the slimy Gleby was baritone Daniel Ihn-Kyu Lee who injected 57 varieties of sliminess into his superb voice, creating an unforgettable villain. We enjoyed mezzo-soprano Jessica Grigg as Nikona, Stephana's anxious servant, and soprano Megan Monaghan in a small role as a woman looking for her father in Siberia.

Baritone Joseph Flaxman excelled in two roles: as a banker in the service of the Prince, and later as an old man who wants to help Stephana escape. Tenor Scott Joiner was the servant Ivan and later The Cossack; tenor Wesley Morgan portrayed Prince Alexis and later portrayed The Sergeant, bass Damian Savarino was Walinoff, also in the Prince's retinue and later, The Inspector.

In the Siberian  part of the opera we would meet The Captain (bass-baritone Sean Cooper), who also portrayed The Governor with appropriate stentorian sound. All the parts seemed well cast and excellently sung.

And what about the music? What made the strongest impression melodically was the "Song of the Volga Boatmen".  This is a traditional Russian song, collected by Balakirev and published in 1866; it has been appropriated by composers of many nationalities and here was most effective in expressing the despair of the Russian peasants in pre-Revolutionary Russia. It is heard many times in the course of the opera. The Cantori New York Chorus did well by it, under the direction of Mark Shapiro.

Conductor Israel Gursky commanded The Teatro Grattacielo Orchestra who did justice to Giordano's  colorful orchestration. When Vassili describes the living conditions in Siberia, the orchestra tells as much as the words. For example, the woodwinds do a great job of illustrating the "unrelenting winds". And a tuba lets us know about the howl of the wolves. (It was at this point that we decided that Siberia does not need to be on our "bucket list").

On the Sunday of Russian Easter in Act III, the chimes and the sextet of mandolins (YES!) took us right where we needed to be. 

There were few arias as set pieces, but Stephana's Act III aria "Qual vergogna tu porti", directed at Gleby, gave her a chance to open up her generous instrument and shine with a variety of emotions. Mr. Lee's high point followed shortly thereafter in "La connobbi quand'era fanciulla" when we finally learn about the origins of their relationship, or his interpretation thereof.

Melo's best moment was in "Stephana!..Dio!" in Act II when she arrives in Siberia. The pair also have a lovely romantic duet.

We only get these treats once a year, generally in October. Most of the luminaries of Planet Opera were in attendance and post-opera conversation was stimulating. 

(c) meche kroop