VIER LETZTE LIEDER AND MORE AT ST. JOHN'S IN THE VILLAGE

William Hicks and Juliana Milin  (photo by meche kroop)

Guest review by Cullen Gandy

The charming, insular neighborhood of the West Village, in New York City, set the scene for an entertaining recital program last night. Julianna Milin and William Hicks were featured as a part of a Vocal Productions NYC concert program, set in quaint St. John’s in the Village Episcopal Church. It’s a church at which I was once employed as a staff singer, so when I heard it was to be the setting, I knew that the acoustic of the space would accommodate a range of sensitive music making. It is live enough in the room to be able to hear the very softest of notes, yet (inexplicably) insulated well enough so that a powerful sound can shine through; without becoming overbearing. That was important tonight, because the soprano of the evening was able to draw out some full-bodied singing, in some of opera and art song’s most formidable repertory.

If I had to choose one thing that I appreciated most about soprano Julianna Milin, I think it would be the breath connection she maintained throughout her voice. She managed to make the lower and lower middle sections of her voice as resonant as they needed to be, so that the audience wouldn’t be surprised when the whole breadth of that sound bloomed out into the higher chambers of the voice. This is a complaint that I have had with past sopranos, but none of that applied to her voice.

There was also a timbre quality and a color in the voice that made Milin unique. Repertory like Turandot’s “In questa reggia”, the encore of the evening, and “Dich teure Halle” from Richard Wagner's Tannhäuser are often marked by voices with iconic steely or brassy qualities. They are roles that sound impressive, but perhaps not beautiful. Milin’s vocal quality incorporates a kind of well-projected reediness to it, that gives it a more pleasant bite. It felt like a deep woodwind, but with the projection of a trumpet. Her voice was able to turn me on to the musical beauty of the Strauss and the Wagnerian music, while maintaining the excitement of it.

It was a special treat to see pianist William Hicks as a part of the program. He has served as the vocal coach and repetiteur for some of opera’s most conspicuous voices, such as Pavarotti and Fleming, and has associate conducted at many of opera’s most prestigious houses. In a smaller space, such as this, it was nice to hear all of the things he was able to draw out of the music, especially in his solo piano sections.

The thing that I most enjoyed about Hicks’ playing wasn’t the precision of the notes, but the layers of phrasing he was able to draw out. In his solo pieces "Solace" (Scott Joplin) and "Variazioni dell’aria Nel cor più non mi sento” (Paisiello), the care with which he differentiated between phrases, different iterations of repeats, and between dynamics was a special experience. It was palpable, in the audience, how much his talent added to the enjoyment of the evening.

Periodically, the artists would address the audiences with little anecdotes and introductions to the piece, prior to performing them. Some critical purists don’t like this kind of set up, opting for the continuity of a through-performed recital; by putting all of the expository material in the program notes. I didn’t mind it so much. It brought a nice levity and familiarity with the audience, and the recital wasn’t so long that the speaking made the night drag on.

If I had to nit-pick about things that could have improved the evening, it would be certain parts of how the recital was set up; logistically.  From where I was sitting, there were as many as two or three items on four-foot camera stands between me and the stage. Because of my ADD, the sight of two screens pointing back at me really distracted me the whole time. That being said, I know it is an imperative for artists, as entrepreneurs, to document and market themselves in this way.

The second criticism is with the way the main-billing Strauss set was prepared for the stage. She had a music stand up to chest height, so that added another obstacle between her and the us. As an audience, we want to feel connected in an emotional sense to the artist, and not just a vocal sense. She seemed to be looking a little more into the score than is optimal for that setting. While it is not uncommon to have music onstage with this song set, because of the fact that the music was written to be performed with a large orchestra, the intimacy of the evening would have been much augmented if she perhaps had held or memorized the music.

Finally, I would have loved to have had the translations of the songs (especially) and arias furnished in the program notes. If nobody spoke German, then a lot of the specific dramatic intent of the words would have been lost.

Bottom line, her voice was well-suited to the, mostly German, repertory of the evening, and the pianist was as adept a collaborator as he was a soloist. It was an evening of music that altogether left us with an air of fulfillment; much akin to the way someone feels when they enjoy a satisfying meal.

Good music, fine performances, charming locale…what’s not to like?

(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

WHAT THE MET DOES BEST

Iréne Theorin as Turandot

We had a fine time forgetting Sandy at The Metropolitan Opera last night.  All negative thoughts were dispersed by the lavish Franco Zeffirelli production.  Lo, the lavish sets!  Lo, the extravagant costumes!  Lo, the colorful orchestration of Puccini's highly melodic score!  Lo, the unequaled Met orchestra, responding to the stylish conducting of Maestro Dan Ettinger!  Lo, the mostly wonderful singing of Iréne Theorin, Marcello Giordani, Janai Brugger and James Morris!

The frosting on the cake was the brief appearance of young artist Ryan Speedo Green whose large deep bass fills the entire house.  And we are always happy to see Mr. Morris who sounded just fine.

This crowd-pleasing opera relies on Puccini's gorgeous music to make us care about two consummately disagreeable characters.  Calaf is a selfish cad, ready to throw his blind elderly father Timur and the faithful servant Liu to the wolves in the service of his obsession with the titular heroine.  Turandot herself is a bitter angry woman who beheads all her suitors.  Even the blood-thirsty citizens of ancient Peking are nasty; but they are brought around 180 degrees by the tender scene in which Liu instructs Turandot in the art of loving.  As they are softened, so are we in the audience.

Mr. Giordani gave too much in Act I and seemed to lose his lower register by the time he got to "Nessun Dorma".  But he certainly does have a flair for Puccini and flavors his singing with the requisite garlic.  Ms. Theorin, on the other hand, got off to a shaky start in "In questa reggia" but quickly got down to business and did brilliantly in showing the eponymous heroine's transition from icy man-hating Daughter of Heaven to a woman conquered by love.  Frankly, the rough kiss from Calaf seemed to be less effective than Liu's impassioned pleading.  There was a lovely authenticity and tenderness in this portrayal by rising star Ms. Brugger, recently turned out by the excellent Merola Program in San Francisco.  Her "Signor ascolta" only hinted at the lovely lyricism to come in the final act.  This is indeed an artist to watch!

For comic relief there are Ping Pong and Pang.  For visual interest there is alternation of dark scenes and brightly lit ones; the lighting design was by Gil Wechsler.  The audience broke into applause when the curtain rose on the palace scene, all white and gilt. This is Grand Opera at its Grandest.  Every time the Met retires a production like this one we experience a little death.  Shouldn't the grandest opera house do more of this?  Please share your opinions with us!

(c) meche kroop