APPLES AND ORANGES

Outdoor HD Festival on Lincoln Center Plaza

We are often asked which is better, live opera or HD. We believe they are two different art forms.  Neither is superior.  They are just different. Nowhere is this made clearer than at the Metropolitan Opera Summer HD Festival which we attend every year. We try to see as many as possible to see what additional experiences are provided by this relatively new art form--an art form that has become increasingly popular in theaters across the country.  We will not get into the debate on whether it brings new audiences to opera or steals audiences from the opera house. We see the two forms as complementary.

The HD experience has input from the HD Director who tries to show you the most important visual of any given moment. Perhaps it is a close-up of a singer's face, or perhaps a close-up of the the reaction of the character to whom, or about whom, the singer is singing.  Perhaps it is a closeup of a set element or prop that could not be seen or understood by an audience member beyond the first row--a passed note, something dropped, or something being hidden.

Sometimes it is just an artistic vision of the HD Director.  A good example of this is Gary Halvorson's direction of Gounod's Roméo et Juliette  Mr. Halvorson's artistry lay in highlighting the visual metaphors of Johannes Leiacker's stunning set design. Elements of the astrological calendar, not very visible in the house, remind us that the lovers are "star-cross'd.", especially when he shows us an aerial view.

Additionally, the close-ups of the masks are incredibly beautiful, lending authenticity to the masked ball. So much labor must have gone into designing and executing the designs of those masks--details not even appreciated with opera glasses. The nuptial bed suspended high above the stage in-house seemed risky to the singers; on film it lent enchantment to the concept of lovers floating above the real world.

In Mr. Halvorson's Gianni Schicchi we loved the details of a wealthy Florentine home, details which cannot be taken in all at once in house. The expressions of the greedy family members were priceless, especially those of Stephanie Blythe.

Costume details are thrown into focus as well, as in Mr. Halvorson's loving attention to Michael Yeargan's period-accurate and lavish costumes for Cosi fan tutte. We even got to understand and apppreciate the women's undergarments.

HD Director Barbara Willis Sweete focused on the obscurely lit compartments of Christopher Oram's depressing Joseph Cornell box-like set for Don Giovanni--images that could not be made out in-house. In her direction of Les Contes d'Hoffman, Michael Yeargan's overly busy set design could be best appreciated in various focused close-ups.

Not every opera benefitted from close-ups. As beautiful as Anna Netrebko and Roberto Alagna looked in R&J, that's how unappealing Mr. Alagna, Olga Borodina and Liudmyla Monastyrska looked in the closing night Aida.  Perhaps it was just the make-up but it detracted rather than added to the performance. Alexei Ratmansky's choreography looked downright silly.

In La Traviata, the visuals were even more striking. But if you objected to Willy Decker's cold modern production (as I do), it appeared even colder on HD. In Act II it seemed as if the Prince of Chintz had upholstered not only the furniture but also Ms. Dessay and Mr. Polenzani. It was the first time we did not break into tears at the end.

Adrian Noble's production of Macbeth also failed to lend itself to this art form. Watching Ms. Netrebko rolling around on the floor of a cold Scottish castle made us feel terribly uncomfortable; the modern dress robbed the story of its power and watching a bunch of mid- 20th c. housewives as witches seemed particularly offensive. And closeups of children vomiting were egregiously unnecessary.

To summarize, HD emphasizes visuals over auditory input. If this emphasis sheds light on the story or  adds to the emotional impact, then HD has done a good job. If it shows us the adorable Susanna Phillips and Isabel Leonard as two stylish sisters, it has added to our appreciation. If the singers happen to be physically attractive so much the better. If the sets and costumes are detailed and authentic, it enhances our involvement.

But if the singers can't act, or don't look the part they are playing, or if the sets are barren and post-moodern, we would prefer not to see them.

Obviously, recorded sound can never give you the auditory thrill of hearing an opera live. That is the price one pays for all the afore-mentioned benefits.

We will close with a formula that works for us. First, see the HD to learn if you like the opera and the production and to relate to the story. Then listen to a good recording to learn the music. Finally, go see the production live and lose yourself in the music, hearing it as it can only sound in the opera house. Then you will have a complete experience.

© meche kroop

THE METROPOLITAN OPERA SUMMER HD FESTIVAL--A RECAP

Johan Botha and Renée Fleming in Othello--photo by Ken Howard

Can an HD surpass the live performance from which it is derived?  That is the question we asked ourselves repeatedly during the 10-night HD Festival offered by The Metropolitan Opera outdoors at Lincoln Center.  In many cases, we answered in the affirmative.  Last summer we wrote about the Live in HD Directors who, by judicious use of varied camera angles and closeups, were able to direct our attention to details which often go unseen in live performances.  We continue our admiration of the fine work of Gary Halvorson, Barbara Willis Sweete and Matthew Diamond.

At the opera house, those sitting in the first few rows of the orchestra see intimate details that others miss; similarly, those in the balcony get a great stage picture plus a view of the orchestra that cannot be appreciated by those down front.  But are there drawbacks to opera on HD?  Of course.  Not every singer looks good in extreme closeup; some make funny faces while they sing, some overact to a great degree, some just look very different from how we imagine the character "should" look.

Let us take a closer look!  In Willy Decker's unfortunate production of La Traviata, (yes, it is striking but it is cold, in spite of Ms. Dessay's regrettable over-acting) Gary Halvorson's focus on closeups was able to remove the distractions of that ugly giant clock, the omnipresent "Dr. Death", and the egregiously inappropriate behavior of Flora's friends.  The emphasis on the intimate interactions was a welcome relief.

Mr. Halvorson's direction of Mary Zimmerman's Lucia di Lammermoor wisely showed Daniel Ostling's moody sets to fine advantage as well as many details of the wedding scene including Anna Netrebko's indifferent and distracted behavior during the photography.  Yet scenes of intimate interaction showed up well in closeups and generated deep feelings for the characters.

In Thomas Adès' The Tempest, Mr. Halvorson's direction focused on the lavish sets by Jasmine Catudal and the imaginative costuming by Kym Barrett, making the evening worthwhile, even if one loathed the screechy vocal writing.  If you ignored the music, you could almost imagine being at a performance of Cirque du Soleil.

Elijah Moshinsky's wonderful production of Otello didn't need much help but Ms. Sweete was right on target.  There were moments early in the opera that revealed much about Iago's character that we never noticed when seeing the opera live.  Closeups of Johan Botha and Renée Fleming revealed a pair of devoted lovers, making the end that much more tragic.

Robert Lepage's La Damnation de Faust was unsuccessful in the house.  The action took place upstage in one of those cubby-hole sets that always make us think of Joseph Cornell's boxes; little could be discerned.  But, with Ms. Sweete's fine HD Direction, we could actually witness what was taking place back there.  We may not have liked it but at least we did not have the frustration of trying to guess about it.

Maria Stuarda is a rather static opera; character development is everything and there is not even much scenery to highlight.  Mr. Halvorson wisely gave us lots of closeups to enjoy the intensely committed portrayals of Elza van den Heever as Queen Elizabeth and Joyce DiDonato as Mary Stuart.

Laurent Pelly's Manon is an ugly production and almost beyond redemption.  Chantal Thomas' sets are of the post-modern type and give us nothing to suggest time and place, just cement walls without a cobblestone in sight in Act I.  We are afraid that this one was just beyond redemption.

David Alden's Un Ballo in Maschera suffered from the same syndrome and nothing could distract us from the inappropriate concept, awful sets by Paul Steinberg, and off-the-mark costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel.  But Matthew Diamond's closeups of poor Kathleen Kim's white tuxedo with wings gave us the relief of a few chuckles.

About Sonja Frisell's tried and true Aida, we have nothing but good things to say and Mr. Halvorson's HD Direction gave us the large cinematic picture during the Triumphal March (although we would have happily chosen to look elsewhere during Alexei Ratmansky's inapposite choreography); but during the important arias, duets and trios we got the closeups that we wanted.

One final advantage of the HD productions is the elimination of l-o-n-g intermissions which are necessary in the house.  Some operas seem tedious and disjointed in house but maintain their dramatic thrust when intermissions are eliminated.  We further enjoyed closeups of the orchestra during the overtures.  There was a moment during Lucia's mad scene when we were dying to witness the playing of the glass armonica.

And so the HD Festival has drawn to a close.  We saw the good, the bad and the ugly.  But we never heard a singer give anything less than a fine performance.  The Met Orchestra sounded topnotch, as did The Met Chorus.  For that we are grateful, as well as for the fine contributions of the HD Directors.  However, before returning to the fold of Met subscribers, we will wait until the pendulum swings back toward productions more faithful to the intentions of the original creators.  Just call us old-fashioned!

© meche kroop

MENAGE A TROIS

Le Comte Ory

What seemed like tedious fluff in April 2011 on the stage of The Metropolitan Opera (see review below) seemed just about right for a warm summer evening outdoors on the Lincoln Center Plaza.  Gary Halvorson's direction of the HD could not make a silk purse out of this sow's ear but it did highlight the anachronistic candy colored costumes of Catherine Zuber, the clumsiness of the scene with Countess Adele in bed with Count Ory and Isolier and the distancing strategy of the Bartlett Sher production.  Not trusting the material on its own terms we found the "opera within an opera" concept rather tiresome and the distraction of the stage manager wandering about with his thunder and lightning machines quite annoying.  That being said, we thrilled to the voices, especially the final scene with the aforementioned trio.  We have no complaints about the presence of two Rossini operas within three days!

The exuberant costumes by Catherine Zuber engaged my eye and my ear was charmed by the vocally perfect performances of the charming soprano Diana Damrau, the equally charming tenor Juan Diego Florez and the delightful  mezzo Joyce DiDonato.  So why the tedium?  Was it the lackluster conducting of Maestro Maurizio Benini or, dare I say this, could it be that this is not Rossini at his best?  Quite a bit of the music was recycled from his piece d’occasion “Il Viaggio a Reims”.  It was said in the program notes that the French language does not lend itself to the florid vocal ornamentation as does Italian.  This is simple to understand, but to this pair of ears, there was ornamentation aplenty.

Perhaps it is simply the case of an uninspiring libretto by Eugene Scribe et al.  Not much happens here.  The licentious Comte Ory is bent on seducing women, but particularly the desirable Countess Adele who is cloistered in her castle while her brother is off in the Holy Land to fight in the Crusades.  In Act I he disguises himself as an hermit in a ridiculous beard; in Act II he disguises himself as a nun, along with a troop of knights in similar garb.  Disguises are usually fun.  One thinks of the Count in Il Barbiere di Siviglia disguising himself as a drunken soldier and as a music teacher.  Somehow in that opera there is a lot going on.  There are lots of funny characters doing outrageous things and getting into much mischief.  But in “Le Comte Ory”  it just didn’t tickle my funny bone.

In the penultimate scene the Count winds up in the Countess Adele’s bed along with his rival, his page Isolier, sung ardently by Joyce DiDonato, quite convincing in a pants role.  This reads pretty funny but the scene was clumsily handled, even for comedy.  Perhaps the direction was flawed.  Perhaps it looks better on HD.  The audience laughed; was it embarrassment?  In this day of casual menages a trois this fully clothed trio did not strike me as amusing at all.

There were some arresting musical moments, especially at the climax of Act I when Rossini gives us an a cappella septet.  Secondary roles who added their voices to the mix were Susanne Resmark as the Countess’ companion, Stephane Degout as the Count’s buddy, and Michele Pertusi as his tutor, all roles well sung.

The “concept” of Bartlett Sher’s production was to present the opera with the accoutrements of a 19th c. production.  Chandeliers were hand-cranked in emulation of the Met’s own chandeliers.  The audience was able to glimpse what goes on backstage before the opera itself begins.  This was mildly interesting.  As mentioned above the costumes for the women were spectacular, sticking largely to a rosy palette but varying in period.  I spied some Empire gowns and lots of 18th c. ones.  Extravagant head dresses suggested the Middle Ages.

It appeared that quite a bit of money went into designing and casting this opera.  It seems to me that the money could have been better spent on a different opera.  There are so many excellent operas languishing for want of discovery!

(c) meche kroop

WHO'S THE PRINCE?

Elina Garanca

A vocally superior Cenerentola could not be imagined than the one presented by The Metropolitan Opera on HD.  The young Rossini (age 25) followed the success of Il Barbiere di Siviglia with this sprightly melodic work which reminds one of....guess what?...the aforementioned.  Gorgeous melodies tumble out one after another with all the excitement of youth and success.  The madcap ensembles for which Rossini is famous bring several scenes to a close.  Rapid-fire patter songs are given to the basses.  We are meant to be smiling throughout and smile we did, with the exception of a couple of longueurs which can be attributed to the libretto of Jacopo Ferretti, loosely based on the fairy tale.  Gone are the fairy godmother, the pumpkin, the shoe and the wicked stepmother.  Instead we have the kind-hearted Alidoro who doubles as her guardian angel and a beggar who tests the heroine's generosity.

Latvian mezzo Elina Garanca is a spunky Cinderella who enjoys tormenting her nasty vain stepsisters (Rachelle Durkin as Clorinda and Patricia Risley as Tisbe) by singing the lament "Una volta c'e un re" over and over again as the opera opens.  She closes the opera with the well-known and cheerful "Non piu mesta".  Between those two show stoppers this beautiful singer invests every phrase with meaning and full round sound.  The fioritura tickles the ear.  American tenor Lawrence Brownlee makes some thrilling sounds as Don Ramiro, the prince; every note in his runs evinces pinpoint accuracy.  But is he princely?  Well, no!  It certainly doesn't help that he is a head shorter than his Cinderella, nor is he assisted by good acting.  His facial expressions range from anxious to angry to pained. Whereas Ms. Garanca convinces us that she falls in love with the little prince on first sight, even though he is masquerading as his valet Dandini, Mr. Brownlee shows no such chemistry toward her, fetching as she is.  There is no law that says a prince should be taller than his beloved, or even of the same racial background; still, one expects the prince to be, well, charming is the word we use.  As in Prince Charming.  Mr. B. came across as more relaxed in his duet with his valet.

Vocal honors are also awarded for the Don Magnifico of Alessandro Corbelli who portrays the nasty greedy stepfather who disparages Cinderella at every turn and makes us laugh at the same time.  Likewise, the Dandini of Simone Alberghini is hilarious.  Both men are called upon to overplay a bit.  John Relyea is excellent as Alidoro in all three incarnations.  The physical comedy is also a bit overdone with the two disdainful and competitive stepsisters; their voices were perfect for the roles.

The 1997 production of Cesare Lievi takes the tone of a cartoon and it does wear thin.  Maurizio Balo did the sets, also cartoonish, and the costumes, strangely updated to the Erte period.  The excellent Met choristers wear bowler hats and look like something out of a Magritte painting.  None of these directorial conceits matter very much since we are watching a comedy.  But they seem tired and tedious.

Maurizio Benini led a brisk reading of the score, which is both frivolous and incredibly artistic.  Gary Halvorson directed the HD and at times we thought he chose his camera angles to minimize the height disparity between Brownlee and Garanca.
He did not succeed.  There are many opera lovers who are able to close their eyes to visual shortcomings (OUCH) but we are not amongst them.

(c) meche kroop