May, 2003
Verdi’s penchant for dramatic gloom is nowhere more apparent than in “Il Trovatore” – his 18th opera. His macabre genius found an ideal outlet in the powerful, though often incomprehensible, plot and, particularly, in the character of the old gypsy woman Azucena (Verdi’s first idea was to name the opera after her). During the composition of the opera, in the autumn of 1852, tragedies struck – Verdi’s mother died, then the librettist Salvatore Cammarano died (one Lone Emanuele Bardare had to be called in to add the final touches) – as if the vengeful ghost of Azucena had cast a pall over the opera. Luckily, the premiere in January, 1853 was a triumph, and further solidified Verdi’s reputation as, at age 38, Italy’s greatest composer.
In the new staging by Opera Pacific, the prevailing doom and gloom of “Il Trovatore” take a backseat to the lavish Technicolor sets by Mileta Leskovac and Dipu Gupta, and costumes by Milanka Berberovic. Donald E. Thomas’s predominantly dim lighting casts long ghostly shadows and silhouettes for dramatic effects, and floods Leonora’s first scene with a golden shimmer. Given the static nature of the opera’s plot, stage director Dejan Miladinovic did his best by creating action, or its illusions, with sword fights and a larger-than-life silhouette figure of Manrico strumming on the guitar. As much as I find much to like in the production, “Il Trovatore” is a singers’ opera through and through, and calls for at least two great singers (ideally four, according to Caruso) – a dramatic mezzo-soprano for the role of Azucena, and a heroic tenor for Manrico (Verdi regarded Leonora as a secondary role). Perhaps as a sign of the times, Opera Pacific has only one great Verdi singer in the line-up – the superb Azucena of Irina Mishura. The half-crazed gypsy hag pranced around the campfire, reminiscing a horrifying tale of infanticide and an old witch burning at the stake, all the while chanting words of vengeance (“Stride la vampa”). The demonic outbursts alternated with moments of wonderful, warm lucidity (“Ai nostril monti”), all sung with impeccable tones of steel and velvet. Ms. Mishura’s sensitive portrayal inspired more pity than fear. It was as fine a dramatic realization of a role as I had the pleasure to witness in an opera house.
The remainder of the cast were, alas, not up to par. Tenor Hugh Smith continues to puzzle me. A fine Lensky in the company’s “Evegeny Onegin” two seasons ago, he sounded out of sorts in the Italian roles of Pollione (San Diego, Feb ’03) and Manrico. The coloring of the Italian vowels is an art that seems to elude him. The voice slid and slithered from note to note in “Ah si ben mio”, with little sense of portamento or legato. “Di quella pira” was an uncomfortable display of sheer will power rather than vocal thrills.. Baritone Boris Trajanov’s Count di Luna had similar trouble with his Italian. “Il balen” came off as neither a noble protestation of love, nor a coherent piece of singing. Bulgarian soprano Zvetelina Vassileva, of whom I have fond memories from San Francisco’s “Il Trovatore”, when she stepped in for Aprile Millo, here sounded uncomfortable in Leonora’s high C’s and B-flat’s in “D’amor sull’ali rosee” (where Verdi marked ppp) despite her very fine acting. I can only surmise that she was having an off night. The minor roles were capably sung by bass Valerian Ruminski, a strong Ferrando, mezzo-soprano Heidi Vanderford, a warm Inez, and tenor Chad Berlinghieri, a clarion messenger Ruiz. The chorus – men’s in Act I and the Anvil Chorus in Act II – was top-notch. The orchestra also played well. Conductor
John DeMain led a forceful, vital reading that at times seemed
to lift the opera out of its gloom. In the Act III ensemble with
Azucena and the interrogating soldiers, the orchestra pressed
forward like a defiant, half-crazed creature à la Azucena. It was
exhilarating.
Dorothy Chandler
Pavilion, Los Angeles The program notes inform us that it was with Mahler’s Third Symphony that Esa-Pekka Salonen arrived on the Los Angeles concert scene in 1992. At that time, Salonen expressed doubts about the work, finding it hard to accept the episodic, loosely-hung musical ideas that sprawl over its six movements. Some ten years and one superb recording of the Third Symphony (on Sony Classical) later, Salonen has clearly re-thought about the piece and, in concert last Sunday afternoon, gave a reading that struck the ideal balance between manic hedonism and sublime clarity – something that all interpreters of Mahler’s Third aspire to but few ever achieved. The sheer size and scale of the Third Symphony – the longest of Mahler’s nine symphonies – are staggering: an augmented orchestra of 125 players, a mezzo-soprano soloist, a women’s chorus, a boys choir, plus an off-stage posthorn player (a flügelhorn was used in this concert). The extravagant forces fittingly showcased a world-class orchestra on top form, with a great conductor in full command of his craft. If anything, this concert performance was even greater than the 1998 recording, as fine as it was. For one thing, with the newly revamped cello section, the lower strings acquired a new ferocity without compromising elegant phrasing. The semi- and demisemiquavers in the opening of the first movement sounded exactly as Mahler had prescribed – “forceful and wild”! In the sixth movement, the twice and thrice divided strings cast a gentle, heartwarming glow that is Mahler’s love song to the world (and to his new bride, Alma, who was moved to tears at the symphony’s premiere in 1902). The woodwind section is, I have long concluded, the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s crowning jewel, and rightly so. The gentle cooing of bassoons in the second-movement minuet, the ravishing sonorities of oboe and English horn combo in the fourth – with music-making like this, no wonder Willem Weingartner, the Dutch conductor who helped popularize Mahler’s music in the Netherlands, exclaimed that “Mahler was intrinsically more musical than Richard Strauss.” The brasses, however, are a whole different story. Suffice it to say that they were on their best behavior at this concert, and that it was a miracle the flügelhorn solo did not get botched up (as I sat with baited breath). For the record, Mahler asked for a posthorn (a valveless member of the brass family) in the third movement, to be played off-stage, like a disembodied ethereal voice from above. But because of the instrument’s rarity today, it is usually substituted with the flugelhorn, a valved cornet-like instrument that produces a similar, otherworldly sound. Mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung gave a rapt, poignant account of “O Mensch!”, a song about man’s sorrow and yearnings for salvation. The yearnings are answered by a seraphic boys choir with their joyous “Bimm, Bamm’s” (imitating the ringing of bells), and a women’s chorus heralding a “heavenly life” (to the tune “das himmlische leben” from the equally celestial Fourth Symphony). The Los Angeles Children’s Chorus and the women of the Los Angeles Master Chorale acquitted themselves most capably. This concert marked the last time Salonon would conduct the Philharmonic before moving to the Walt Disney Hall in October. It was a farewell filled not with regret, but with rejuvenating vigor that signaled a new beginning.
Segerstrom Hall, Costa Mesa For nearly 50 years, the Philharmonic Society of Orange County has brought major international artists and orchestras to Southern California. That tradition continued last Thursday with Lorin Maazel conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra in an eclectic program of Brahms, Debussy and Richard Strauss. It was a tour de force of orchestral brilliance, full of excitement and adrenaline, if not much finesse. Finesse and mystery are key characteristics of Brahms’ Symphony No. 2. The rich scoring for violas and horns evokes the vista of an enchanted forest. The Allegretto, scored for oboe, clarinet, bassoon and pizzicato cello, is a nostalgic old-time minuet in the Haydnesque style. Under Maazel’s baton, these supremely lyrical nature paintings often went unappreciated, as if the mountaineer plowed ahead full-steam, with only the final peak in his sight. I must admit, however, that the final coda was as vigorous and vivacious as I have heard in this work. A wunderkind-turned-world famous maestro, including a brief stint as a nomadic Bohemian artist “just to see what it’s like”, Lorin Maazel is today one of the most prolific musicians, with 5000 concerts and 300 recordings under his belt, and, as the rather gushing artist bio reminds us, is also an active environmentalist/philanthropist and speaks 6 languages fluently (which no doubt came in handy when delivering his award speeches in those six countries). To me, all this only fortifies the jack-of-all-trades impression of Maazel that I have had from the beginning. Unlike Leonard Bernstein, whose equally prodigious talents had found a niche in the works of Gustav Mahler that made him immortal, Maazel tends to occupy himself with marathon performances of the old masterpieces and has yet to put his own individual stamp on any one of them. One comes away from a Maazel-led performance with high spirits, but remains unimpressed and unmoved. The exotic coloring of Debussy’s La Mer offers plenty of opportunities for a virtuosic orchestra. Maazel clearly was more at home in Debussy’s smaller nature vignettes than in the architectural grandeurs of Brahms. The quicksilver arabesques in “Jeux de vagues” were tossed off with a charming insouciance and playfulness. “Dialogue du vent et de la mer” was capped by a scintillating climax like a million dancing lights on the impressionistic seascape. The precise and sensitive playing by the Bavarian orchestra was a joy throughout. The Rosenkavalier Suite had all the rhythmic precision of a Viennese music box and none of the lilt of a Viennese waltz. It wasn’t until the sublime final trio (for oboe, trumpet, and shimmering strings) that a sense of expansiveness and flow began to set in. But by then, it was too little, too late. Johann Strauss Jr.’s beloved Thunder and Lightning Polka, in all its high-spirited, lighthearted humor, made for an interesting encore. One may not warm to Maazel’s conducting, but it sure was exciting and fun!
Dorothy Chandler
Pavilion, Los Angeles Alban Berg wrote his Violin Concerto in 1935, on a commission from American violinist Louis Krasner. It is a highly personal work, inspired by a young girl who lost her battle with polio. The music depicts the girl’s youthful innocence in the first movement. The second movement, depicting the mystical transfigurations of her departing soul, achieves its otherworldy effect, in part, through the use of 12-tone harmonies on a Bach chorale “Est ist genaut”. Californian-born violinist Jennifer Frautschi captured perfectly the soul, as it were, of the piece. If her playing was not as coy or playful as some others I’ve heard, it had the drive and spontaneity – the zest for life – of a young person unaware of her own imminent demise. It is not a morbid work, but a celebration of life. Maestro Pierre Boulez provided sensitive orchestral support throughout, and produced some ravishing sonorities in the woodwinds. Anton Bruckner’s Nineth Symphony is also preoccupied with death, albeit on a much grander scale. Boulez, noted for the clarity and transparency of his conducting, stripped Bruckner’s mammoth Nineth of its Romantic excesses, like removing the age-old varnishes on a Great Book to reveal the shining truism within. For their part, the Los Angeles Philharmonic played like gods. I have not heard playing like this probably since Zubin Mehta conducted Mahler’s Nineth three seasons ago. Apart from a wrong entry by the flute near the beginning of the Scherzo, the orchestra executed flawlessly, reacting to Bruckner’s tempo and dynamic micro-changes with the most sensuous rubato. For once, the music’s huge architectural blocks and the inner logic that joins them together are made perfectly clear – a no small feat in itself. Boulez will conduct the
Philharmonic’s final concert at the Ol' Dorothy's next Sunday.
Do not miss it!
Dorothy Chandler
Pavilion, Los Angeles There was a time when music education was as basic as arithmetic and sports. Nowadays, high schools boast their football teams and cannot scrape together enough funds for a school orchestra. In the film “They Shall Have Music” (RKO, 1942), Jascha Heifetz saves a high school orchestra from insolvency by agreeing to lend his star power at a benefit concert, playing Mendelssohn’s violin concerto. For tonight’s gala concert, star pianist Yefim Bronfman flew into town with only two hours to spare, lending his time and talent to a good cause, playing Prokofiev’s scintillating Piano Concerto No. 2 to a wildly cheering crowd. The good cause is the American Youth Symphony, a pre-professional orchestra comprised of young musicians between the ages 16 and 24. In addition to their own training, they also participate in school outreach program in the Los Angeles School system, bringing classical music to the other, less privileged, children. Underwriting this whole enterprise is Ms. Flora L. Thornton, whose largesse to the Los Angeles arts and science community is felt far and wide. Appropriately enough, the gala concert was dedicated to Ms. Thornton. Bravissima! Given the ceremonial nature of the occasion, critiquing the performance is probably irrelevant. Suffice it to say that the young musicians all did an admirable job, both conquering the nerves and making great music, in Glinka's Russlan and Ludmilla overture and Tchaikovsky's tone poem Francesca da Rimini. Their families and students from local schools all witnessed something special and magical – that great art transcends social and economic boundaries. Kudos for Ms. Thornton for keeping the sound of
classical music alive in Los Angeles. For more info on
the American Youth Symphony, go to
www.AYSymphony.org, or
e-mail music@AYSymphony.org.
Segerstrom Hall, Costa Mesa Unlike opera, in which multi-national styles of singing have largely given way to one homogenous international style, piano playing today remains stylistically distinct with regard to the pianist’s national origin. The fleet, elegant, precise pianism epitomizes the French style, of which Mr. Thibaudet is its most forefront proponent today. In Debussy’s Etudes and Satie’s Three Pieces (Gymnopedie No. 1, Gnossienne No. 7, Dreamy Fish), the playing was crystalline without being dry. The prodigious fluency in executing octaves, arpeggios and chromatic scales was never an end to itself, but a vehicle for poetic expression, which, in this case, provided a welcome sense of warmth to the music’s distilled emotions. Messiaen’s monumental paean to love “Regard de l’Eglise d’Amour”, lasting some 15 minutes, receiving an intense, probing reading that probably gave the music more than its due. The greatest feature of the recital was the special way Mr. Thibaudet had with Chopin’s music. The long cantilenas in the D-flat major Prelude and the B-flat minor Nocturne, for example, bore the legato style of the great singers whom Mr. Thibaudet often accompanies (Renée Fleming, Cecilia Bartoli, et al.) The evening ended with three rousing but eclectic encores (Liszt, Debussy, Joplin). However, it was the Chopin that lingered in the memory long after the recital.
West Bay Opera, Palo
Alto By Terri Stuart Set in Lima, Peru, the madcap libretto of La Périchole was written by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy, Offenbach's collaborators on his many popular opéra bouffe including: La Belle Hélène, Barbe-bleue, La vie Parisiene and La grande-duchesse de Gérolstein. Although filled with parodies, puns and mistaken identities, there is a charming sentimentality in the convoluted plot. The lovers Périchole and Perillo, poor, starving street performers, lack the money to marry. Périchole and Perillo are separated during the festivities surrounding the very pompous Viceroy's birthday. Struck by her beauty, Viceroy falls in love with Périchole. Hungry and defeated she is reluctantly pressed into becoming his lady-in-waiting (i.e., mistress) but is only permitted to do so if she is a proper married lady. Périchole writes a heart-wrenching letter to Perillo and despairs as she prepares for her wedding. Love-sick Perillo, so drunk he does not recognize his beloved, unwittingly marries the Viceroy's prospective mistress ~ La Périchole, Countess of Tobago! Of course, Périchole resists the Viceroy's advances because she realizes that she will continue to "get" jewels and feasts as long as she doesn't "give" of her charms.
At court the next day, a sober Perillo realizes his mistake and Périchole's betrayal. He hurls insults at Périchole and is thown into a prison for recalcitrant husbands. Périchole sneaks into the prison and rescues Perillo and the Viceroy grants forgiveness to all. Périchole gets to keep her gifts and title and all rejoice in song. The English translation of Offenbach's French opera was by the Bay Area's living treasure: Donald Pippin. Pippin has an unrivaled knack for retaining all of the wit and charm while maintaining the musical line. Topical humor was added to the spoken parts and roars of laughter filled the theatre all evening. In the title role, Opera San José favorite, mezzo Layna Chianakas delighted the audience. A gifted comedic actor, Chianakas brought her considerable vocal resources to the role as well. Pérchole's "Tipsy Aria" was deftly sung and her "Letter Aria" was sweetly poignant. Since the opera is a tour de force mezzo role, all of the big arias in this opera fall to Périchole, however the cast shone brightly in the many duets, trios and ensemble pieces. The delightfully dense Perillo was sweetly sung by tenor Brett Colby. Another fine comedic actor, Colby was agile and game for his characters many pratfalls. Roberto Perlas Gomez's, although a buffo role, provided a suave baritone with a bright tenorish glint to his high notes. Other standouts in the large ensemble were tenor Mark Hernandez and bass-baritone Michael Morris as the bumbling bureaucrats, bowing and scraping to keep their jobs at court. The comely, Can-Can "Cousins" Heidi Moss, Amy Stalcup and Ariela Morgenstern (doubling or is that tripling as Ladies in Waiting along with Kathleen Moss) proved to be wonderful foils for the comedy.
Once again, West Bay Opera scored a home run with clever pivoting sets which created three different, but unique tableau: an open air plaza with the palace balcony at the rear, the interior of the Viceroy's palace and a dismal dungeon. Created by Peter Crompton, the sets were warmly lit by Chad Bonaker. Richard W. Battle created ambitious and colorful costumes for the large cast of townspeople, soldiers, jugglers, courtiers. Using jaunty bowler hats, flounced skirts, ethnic fabrics, plenty of bared shoulders and cleavage, the Peruvian/Spanish influence reigned supreme. Much of the credit for the lively comedy goes to director Daniel Helfgot. The choreography of the court scene was hilarious. The pratfalls came off flawlessly, but buffoonery was never over the top. Périchole and Perillo's Act I street duets were wonderfully comedic. And in a stroke of genius, Helfgot has Périchole turn to the audience pointing, taunting and singing "Mon Dieu, que les hommes son bêtes" (My God, how stupid men are!). Offenbach's score includes Peruvian flavor by way of Spain by using boleros and seguidillas along with the traditional waltzes and marches one expects in Offenbach. Barbara Day Turner led a bright and lively 20+ piece orchestra. Keeping close watch on the comedy playing out on stage, Day Turner guided the orchestra perfectly in synch with the action. A special kudo goes to the string and woodwind sections and Carolyn Lockhart's bassoon. I found myself tapping my feet to the music all evening. Don't miss this wonderful production. Additional performances are: May 25 - 2:00, May 30 - 8:00, May 31- 8:00 and June 1- 2:00. Call West Bay Opera box office (650) 424-9999.
Dorothy Chandler
Pavilion, Los Angeles The final production of the 2002-2003 Los Angeles Opera season is the first of three new Mozart-Da Ponte productions to mark the 250th anniversary of Mozart's birth. Directed by Polish TV/film wunderkind Mariusz Trelinski, it is a typical avant-garde, minimalist staging with mythical symbolisms abound – a giant hourglass, pantomimes of Don Giovanni's 1,003-plus victims – and more than a few infelicities that serve to humiliate rather than humanize Mozart's flesh-and-blood characters (the feather plucking during Don Giovanni-Zerlina duet "la ci darem la mano" was especially egregious.)
Fortunately, as with most so-called 'Eurotrash' productions, one only needs to close ones' eyes to appreciate fully the genius of the original creators, undoctored by chauvinistic directors, who today enjoy prima donna status previously accorded only great singers. Even so, whatever misgivings one might have about this new "Don Giovanni", the Los Angeles Opera must be applauded for its innovative spirit, which it will need to compete with the new Walt Disney Hall soon to open across the street. The tony opening night crowd responded enthusiastically, eating up every joke, even the crass ones. The singers also got a big hand from the audience, and deservedly so. Ironically, it was the women of Don Giovanni who dominated the show with their superlative singing. Anna Christy was as perky and delightful a Zerlina as they come. Adina Nitescu's Donna Elvira had the requisite neurosis in her passionate outpourings without sounding comical. Her entry to the Act II sextet, "sola sola in buio loco", was very touching indeed.
Andrea Rost was the finest of the lady trio, combining Pamina's ingenuous charm (Zauberflote, Apr'02) and Antonia's passion (Contes d'Hoffmann, Dec'02) in her portrayal of Donna Anna. Her petite frame belies a big voice of pure gold and glamour, well-schooled in the Italian art of the florid song. "Non mir dir", Donna Anna's show stopper, was rendered with the utmost poise and refinement of line, and ended in a heated torrent of roulades and runs that rightly brought down the house. Ms. Rost is one of the greatest Mozart interpreters we have today. The men, while competent, were not as consistently inspiring. James Creswell was a vocally suave, though rather humorless, Masetto. Bass Rosendo Flores's dour Leporello made nothing of the deliciously wicked lines in the "Catalog aria". John Matz was a good-natured Ottavio, and Fedor Kuznetsov was a bionic Commendatore with an electronically-amplified voice and wheels on feet powered by a stagehand.
As the protagonist, bass Erwin Schrott sounded appropriately virile in the "Wine aria" and cut a dashing figure on stage. Personally, I would prefer a baritone Don Giovanni, since most of the music lies awkwardly in the upper reaches of the bass range, but comfortably in the middle of the baritone range. Conductor Kent Nagano has clearly
restudied the score and gave a remarkably detailed reading – the
sighing oboes in Act I Octtavio/Anna duet, the enchanting cello
obbligato in Zerlina's "batti batti", etc. Dramatic momentum,
however, was not lost to him amidst all these felicitous details.
The Los Angeles Opera Chorus sang and looked great in fanciful
commedia dell'arte costumes designed by Arkadius. Remaining dates for Don Giovanni are June 4, 8, 11, 14, 17, 20, 22. Tickets from $30 to $160 on weeknights and $35 to $170 on weekends. Call Los Angeles Opera box office (213) 365-3500.
All reviews by Truman C. Wang, unless otherwise noted.
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