So, a new Rigoletto production. Which aims to take it back to sixteenth century Mantua of the setting, rather than the La dolce vita of Opera Australia’s venerable production it replaced, or the Las Vegas of The Met production or… Well, let’s be honest, these days, setting Rigoletto in the correct location, in the depicted period, is something of a novelty these days. Does it work still, in our days of demanding a visual feast of excitement and new interpretations? Or is it too, just another gimmick to appeal to our jaded tastes?
Well, first of all, the source material is very strong. Some of Verdi’s best known tunes, La donna é mobile (aka the Leggos ad music), Caro nome, Questa o quella, the quartet at the end, in a dramatic tale. These are all works of genius tossed throughout the opera, working as stand alone pieces, yet taking on an amazing strength when staged well. And, mostly, it is. This is a stripped back to the roots production, with a focus on the performers, not one where your eye is drawn left right and centre distractedly.
And what performances. Reuniting the Lucia cast of two years ago was the principal reason I wanted to see this production, and this cast. And, I was not disappointed. Giorgio Caoduro and Emma Matthews are one of those pairings that we dream of. With huge respect and love for each other, they also are both amazing singers, setting a high standard for all of their colleagues to follow. it is easy to believe in them as father and daughter, despite their ages suggesting nearly the opposite.
Emma brings her beautiful, flexible, silvery tone and intelligence to this role. Her Caro nome is every bit as gorgeous as expected, as well as an aria she lives. She takes the idea of teenage emotional excess and runs with it, at the same time, remaining curiously naive. By the time this is finished, we have no doubt that this girl is both deeply infatuated with the bad boy tenor, but has no experience of life. This is the big first love of her life, and she has no idea of what that means.
As her father, Caoduro was better than I hoped. He brought both the fearless mocker of all, as well as the loving father, and made them connected. His singing continues to impress, bringing a clear ringing sound of considerable beauty and power to the role. If at times, it seemed not as rich as expected in this role, it was only in the quieter moments, when some extra strength seemed needed. But, he is a very young Rigoletto and with age, he will prove to be an astonishing one. At the moment, vocally, he is merely very good. I only hope I get to hear him sing this again, in ten years time, when his voice has grown in richness.
Our Duke was Gianluca Terranova, bringing a reliable Italianate sound to the role. His is not the voice of a Pavarotti or other starry tenor, but he is a capable singer, and relished the chance to sing such glorious music. If it was not a performance of great depth, part of me feels that was partly a matter of direction, and partly a matter of performing approach. It felt more a colour by numbers performance, lacking the intensity of the other two leads. That said, in some ways, his job is to be a cypher, a character that does not have a significant emotional range or journey, rather someone who causes them in others.
The Sparafucile of David Parkin continues to impress. His voice continues to improve and his stage presence shows how far he has come from his days of Operatunity, even if he is again singing the first role he sang for Opera Australia, not that many years ago.
Indeed, it has to be said, a big pleasure of this production is that there was no one on stage who sang badly. Every solo role was heard clearly, in pitch and in character. Even Lisa Cooper, who had stepped in to replace the usual (indisposed) Page was clear and assured.
If there was any disappointment, it would have to be in the fact that after opening for the rowdy first scene, the two revolves that the set was built on failed to work. The change to scene 2 where Sparafucile and Rigoletto meet was delayed by more than ten minutes, while the gremlins were dealt with. it was a curiously disappointing note on an other wise highly impressive evening. It also made me think back to the last Rossini opera I saw, where the single revolve for that set refused to work at all, causing some on the night restaging. Does OperaAustralia have a backstage maintenance problem?
But, to be fair, fifteen minutes of waiting for a fix was a small price to pay, when for everything else, the opera gods were smiling.
So, yes, Rossini and sex romps, not exactly what you think of together. Well, not until you get to know the plots of most of his comic operas. Then, yes, its all about who gets it, who doesn't, who is chasing it, and who ends up winning in the end.
And, then you need the sort of cast, who can not only throw of the vocal high jinks with ease (as shown above), but also carry off the sort of staging that makes the crazy stories work. In Turk, we basically have a bedroom farce, revolving around the young Fiorilla, busy sleeping her way through the town, her husband, her lover, the Turk of the title who arrives to stir the plot, and a young gypsy, who of course, turns out to be the Turk's long lost love. Throw in the playwright who is busy recording the goings on to make his first great play, add a chorus and cook till light, frothy, effervescent, and serve with a chilled bubbly, probably prosecco, considering the music (ably held together by Andrea Molina from the pit). That is basically all you need to know.
So, like most of Rossini's operas, there is always a star role that the whole opera revolves around. In this case, it is Fiorilla, the girl who is open all hours and seemingly to all comers. How she came to marry Geronio is anyone's guess, but it is your typical young excited vixen/old crotchety fool type couple that is the stuff of these plots. Needless to say, Emma Matthews takes the challenges of Fiorella's music, throws those notes off against the back wall of the theatre, and vamps her way up, basically having a great time doing it; relishing the chance not to play the tragic heroine, but rather showing off her great comic skills as well as her sizzling coloratura. It is the first time I have seen her play comic in a long time (I think the last I saw live was back in the 80's as Cupid in Orphee aux enfers) but, just like in Lucia, she remains the one character your eyes are constantly drawn to on stage, as she turns the vamp level up to 11.
As her husband, the mislead fool, Conal Coad gives us more of what we expect. This role could have been written with him in mind. His fearless portrayals of comic roles are legendary, and here, he is once again in his element. If at times his coloratura was not as clear as it could have been, who cares? He clearly relishes being the butt of jokes and can teach a thing or two to many performers about singing loudly, even when motorboating Fiorilla.
As the Turk, Poalo Bordogna had fun with pretty much every stereotype of Turks you can think of. It is not exactly a subtle comedy, but getting to play the exotic playboy with two girls at your beck and call is probably most baritones' dream. He had fun doing it. He even does a mean Elvis hip swivel as required by the staging. If his voice was not as good as some of the others, he clearly had no problem negotiating the challenging vocal lines. Though, lacking the beauty of some of the other voices on display, he left me wishing for Jose Carbo at times, who would have been just as funny, with a beautiful flexible voice to match the others. Not that I did not like him, I just wished for a nicer sound, and when you know an Australian could do it better....
As Narciso the lover, Luciano Botelho was hilarious and sang with a darker tone than we sometimes get from Rossini tenors. However, he had no problems negotiating the vocal writing, even while changing on stage (twice) and dealing with a range of sight gag props (anyone who can sing clearly and beautifully, while wearing goggles, swimming flippers and carrying an inflatable mattress deserves some sort of award).
Also impressive was the Prosdocimo of Samuel Dundas, the playwright to be, whose frequent asides to the audience were as much to elaborate the action, as to explain his future play. He almost worked as Greek chorus at times, but never had to drop character, indicating many great characterisations ahead of him. If his singing got lost in some of the ensembles, that was unsurprising. A young baritone singing Rossini is always a big ask...
And, of course, mention must be made of Anna Dowsley making her mainstage debut for OperaAustralia as Zaida, the gypsy/lover of the Turk. Maybe she was not as secure in her comedy as some of the other performers, but her voice was clear and very well produced. This was a very promising debut for a voice that had no problems in filling the theatre. And one I look forward to hearing more of in the future.
I suppose I should mention that the staging was updated to the 1950's - resulting in fabulous loud colours and dresses that flatter curves (always a good thing for opera!) While the set looked fabulous, like some 50s diner designed by a cubist, the revolve that was a feature (and intended to speed the scene changes) failed to revolve, resulting in a very late start as they tried to fix it. However, with Prosdocimo acting as the barman taking on extra duties of removing tables and chairs as needed, it was not missed much. A couple of times things suffered slightly, but it did not affect the story telling significantly. It still flowed smoothly from one scene to another, things just may have happened in earshot of characters that were not supposed to hear them. Which is nothing new for opera, of course! It also meant a lot more people had to leave via a small space into the wings, than was probably planned.
I should also make special mention of the surtitles that the director Simon Phillips prepared. They were a treat in themselves, filled with all sorts of unexpected slang, clearly aimed at Australians. Referring to the Turk as a doner kebab was a good example of what I mean.
So, all in all, this is definitely a great night out. It is not serious, nor does it make any pretense to offer any deeper meanings. But it does offer some truly amazing singing, and lots of belly laughs, especially in the second act. I had thought based on the cast, that this was going to be one of the must sees for this year's opera season. Having seen it, I have no hesitation in saying that now. Go, laugh, and live life loud.
I shall leave you with our heroine, singing something different, but equally vocally challenging.
So, before I began to talk about the current Lucia di Lammermoor, I felt it was important to give you a good idea of what Emma Matthews sounds like. This aria is from The Love of the Nightingale, by Richard Mills, and the role was written with her in mind. When I hear this now, I can't help hearing how perfectly it shows off everything that Lucia does too. Florid singing, check; effortless high nights floating in the stratosphere, check; ability to convey emotion purely by sound, check; fearlessness, check.
So, what does her Lucia sound like? Well, at present the only thing available on youtube is a bad video from the previous production. The sound is quite good, considering, but the video is frankly, pretty poor quality. We seriously need video of Emma doing this role, in this production. She frankly, is astonishing.
Now, this is the old production that used to be the star vehicle for Dame Joan Sutherland. Dame Joan, who probably sets the standard by which other voices should be judged by in this role, is a very different performer to Emma. Emma has the fearlessness of a modern acting singer who has worked with directors who live in a world where the singer is not king, but the tool to create what they want. Dame Joan worked mostly with directors who worshipped the ground she walked on, so her performances are very much a reflection of that. I cannot imagine Dame Joan ever singing flat on a table, legs spread as if welcoming her lover into her. That happens during the mad scene in this production of Lucia, and it was totally appropriate for the character, a reminder that though unhinged, it was all about the characters' relationships in this opera.
To give you an idea of what this production looks like, this is the mad scene from La Fenice (its a coproduction with Opera Australia and Houston Grand Opera), who had the video rights for this new production (with Jessica Pratt as Lucia):
As you can see from this, this is a very dark, gothic take on the opera. The stage is very bare, decorated with images of storm clouds the whole time. There is nothing quite like seeing an empty stage with only one person for making that person look lost, or drawing attention to that person. Though, quite what doing that with Normanno at the beginning and end of many scenes, I am not sure what the director was trying to achieve. Making it seem what happened was a result of him puling the strings perhaps? If so, it was not made clear.
Having said that, this was a stunning looking Lucia. Everyone apart from Lucia, Arturo and Enrico spent the evening in dark sombre coloured clothes. There was very little scenery or props. A couple of chairs now and then, the table in the mad scene, the wedding register for the wedding scene, other than that, nothing of import. There was also no fountain (this features prominently in the plot) but the fountain was played as being where the orchestra was, which meant you forgot about it not being there.
Mostly, the direction and setting being so minimalist and dark was ideal. It focused your attention on the story and the music, where it belonged, This was was not a production where you were constantly distracted by unnecessary things making you think "What is that there for? How does that fit in the plot?" Rather, it was designed specifically to enhance the sombre mood, and to focus attention on the principal singers, rather than anywhere else. The only time this was not successful, was paradoxically in some of the big set pieces, where the chorus were moved around for no apparent reason, or where they were deliberately moved in ways that distracted attention from what was going on? A failure to trust the performers to keep attention focused on what was happening, perhaps? Or a lack of trust on the audience's attention span? Either way, there were a couple of times where I thought, why are the chorus doing that, and never saw the point, apart from creating movement. Sometimes it was distracting from crucial action, which seems very odd.
The music was under the capable hands of Christian Badea, who brought a very precise sound from the orchestra. A couple of times I was thinking, I wished he had conducted either of the Aidas I went to, as he understood the need for precision, in a way I missed in the Aida ensemble work. There are times when music must be precise, and times when you can let your hair down and run with it. Our conductor here kept everything tightly together, and sympathetic to the singers on stage, while bringing a potent orchestral presence.
I have to say also, before I get to the singers, not only did the director and designer do a great job with this production, so too did the lighting designer. Working as much with shadow as with light, she really helped to bring out the creepy in the relationship between Enrico and Lucia. At other times, shadows were used to indicate that others are just out of sight, but we know they are there, listening, ready to take their part in the drama.
Now, to the singers... First of all, in Lucia there are three characters who exist to be cyphers. In their own right, they hardly matter, except they enable the story to proceed in important ways. Normanno, the first of these, is the man who in many ways sets the action off. He reveals to Enrico about Lucia's affair with a man he suspects is Edgardo, their sworn enemy. That's really his sole point, to set off Enrico and be his offsider as needed. As an actor Jonathon Abernethy was fine, bringing a touch of creepy stalkerish behaviour to his treatment of Lucia, and being a frequent malevolent presence at the start and end of scenes. As a singer, well, if I heard him I might have been happy, but in the opening, he got drowned out by the chorus! Thankfully, he did not often have to sing over them, but his sounded a pleasant enough character tenor, but frankly, even Normanno needs a voice that carries. Once he was singing without the chorus, it was fine, but, it really was not a good introduction.
As Alisa, Lucia's nurse, Teresa La Rocca seemed a little wasted. She is someone who is used to having big roles, and singing them well. Here she was the nurse and constant companion, who exists to be Lucia's confidante and care giver. Again, it is a role that is more about being a presence and an actor, than being a singer. Having a good singer in the role, seems well, luxurious. But, throughout the opera, she proved her worth, helping to reinforce the sense that Lucia has long been unstable. That what happens after the wedding, was not just a result of current events, but that Alisa had been keeping it from happening for a long time.
Then we have Arturo, the ill fated bride groom, sung by Andrew Brunsdon. He comes on as the conquering hero who is here to save the family from ruin, but brings about his own ruin. Vocally he was more than up to the task. Arturo only exists in one scene, and having a good singer who solely exists to die offstage always seems a bit odd, but welcome in this case. Having said that, I can't help thinking that his voice suits the more dramatic roles than the lyric ones. I'm not saying he is a dramatic tenor, but this role did not seem to sit as well as the messenger in Aida did. Tho, in either case, he did what was needed, and did it well.
Now, as Raimondo, we had a far too youthful Richard Anderson. We always think of the priest as old, and in this case, he looked a similar age to the other leads. It was not a problem, it was just... Odd. The age normally helps him to come across as offering wisdom to Lucia, encouraging her to go ahead with the marriage, where as with him younger, he seemed somehow to be more in league with Enrico, which to me makes him a less sympathetic character. At any rate, he sang his two arias and ensemble work with the authority we expect from him, his big resonant bass navigating the florid demands with ease and security. Possibly, I expect more luxuriating in the melody of his big aria that announces Lucia's madness, but I suspect that was not his choice to make. It somehow seems cruel for one of the best bass arias to occur just before all memory of it gets obliterated by the mad scene to end all mad scenes.
As Edgardo, I found James Valenti very much a mixed bag. On the one hand, his is a voice with an undeniably pleasing sound. On the other, I heard a lot of things that made me worry for him. To me, he sounds like a singer working too hard, trying to force the sound rather than allowing it to bloom. People sometimes talk of a manufactured sound, rather than a organic one, and that was how it felt to me. By the end I felt that less (was he better warmed up perhaps?) but at the same time, his high notes were a struggle and not pretty. Granted, the final scene is a cruel piece of writing for any tenor, but I expected more. Having said all that, he was convincing as the hot headed lover who fell in love with his enemy's sister, and certainly looked the part. I'm just worried that he is not achieving what he could be, vocally, based on what I heard.
As Enrico, I was biased to dislike Giorgio Caoduro. To my mind, this role belongs to Jose Carbo in Australia. Having witnessed Jose first hand, I find it hard to imagine a better local singer in the role. I also do not see why we should bring in a foreign singer to sing this when someone local sings it so well. On the other hand, having now heard him, I am very happy to have him. Giorgio brings many things to this role, with a great voice being one of them. By the end of the night, I was impressed. I was also wishing he had sung Amonasro in the Aidas I saw in the same theatre. Something tells me it will be in his future.
Which brings me to Emma as Lucia.
Now, a word of warning here. I only really wanted to go to Lucia because it was Emma. This is an opera I know and know well. I have sung chorus in it, and quite frankly, most of the time, I would not choose to go to a Lucia. Its the sort of opera where unless the leads are special, it is just a tedious night out. In this case, the hype was fully justified. Emma may not have the massive voice of Dame Joan in this role, but she is a singer whose voice is always audible, and it never felt small in this role. For such a small figure, the size of sound produced seems somehow a freak of nature. From the opening with Regnava, through to the end of the mad scene when Alisa leads her off, with her having regressed to a childlike state at the end, this was HER opera. Every note was like a drop of crystal, ringing clear throughout the theatre. Brightly polished and gleaming, her voice is a miracle of laser precision and clarity.
At the same time, while singing the fiendish music with her trademark beauty of tone, Emma lives this role. This is the second role I have seen her in recently where she ends up with blood all over her (Nightingale being the other) and here she revels in it. Not as in, her character becomes a bloodthirsty madwoman, but that while in the psychotic state of the mad scene, she is all bloodied and wallows in it. It was a picture of a woman truly unhinged. That she is so convincing while singing with such incredible beauty at the same time is unbelieveable. Except I saw it, and heard it. She is all that, and damn good too.
So, yes, this is a Lucia worth going to see. It is a Lucia worth taking a weekend away to see if need be. This is a production that will haunt me. It is already haunting one of my friends who was there last night for his third time in this run! While I am not that fanatical, this is a production and a cast I would happily see again. The fact that I am saying this about an opera I tend to avoid probably says all you need to know.
I am also shocked that this is not being recorded for posterity. It should be.
This is all that is available on line of this magnificent production...
Seriously, there are no words. Just like the Thracian women repeatedly tell both Procne, and later Philomele, there are no words, to describe how a new theatrical piece invokes responses in you, and to try to describe the performance, there are no words to adequately describe what you have seen. And yet, we must. We must get out the truths of what we have seen and ensure that others want to see them also.
For those that have missed the whole "Love of the Nightingale" story and are wondering what I am talking about, OperaAustralia have just mounted the glorious Richard Mills opera, based on the story by Ovid in his Metamorphoses concerning the sisters Procne and Philomele and the Thracian king Tereus, whom Procne marries, and who then, while collecting Philomele to bring her to spend time in Thrace with her sister Procne, rapes and brutalises her.
That is the basics of the story. And, I will be honest, it does sound like a pretty grim night at the opera. Modern opera, based on a bloodthirsty tale of outrageous behaviour. And yes, it does live up to being a confronting night of theatre. Seeing someone have their tongue cut out is pretty gruesome, even if you know that it is not real. Especially when it is presented in such a way that you imagine it more than you see it.
But this is also a production with a lot of humour. I frequently was laughing out loud in the first act, which I was not expecting. Granted there was less humour in the second act, but then the plot does turn very ugly, so that was no surprise.
And, with the humour and the vivid characterisations, you did care about these characters. Most of them in fact, although I do not recommend getting to attached to lead tenor roles in this opera.
As the sisters, Emma Matthews and Anke Hoeppner have the sort of roles that singers dream about. And, fill them well they do. Emma is probably the finest singer we have in Australia at the moment, and once again, she showed us why. Her sweet coloratura filled the theatre throughout the night, with no risk of being overwhelmed, and always in control. Now, granted, this is her second time singing this role (she created the role in its first production) but this is one of those cases of a role that seem a gift to the singer. In fact, I am pretty sure that Richard Mills wrote the role around her originally. What a gift for her!
Anke was something of a surprise for me. I admit, the times before I have heard her, I have been underwhelmed. I would never have thought of her voice as beautiful. Powerful yes, but a tendency to be wayward, and harsh, not one I would rush off to hear again. As Procne, she held her own, as Philomele's older, though not wiser, sister, who marries the brutish Tereus. She left me realising that I need to reconsider her as a singer to investigate further, as she never fell into Emma's shadow, despite being on stage together for a large chunk of her role. I guess this is what happens when you only know performers from recorded performances.
As Tereus, Richard Anderson was the hulking brute he needed to be. He was the sort of man you could believe would do the things he did, if he did not get his own way. His voice was similar, powerful and intimidating, if not making beautiful sounds. This was of course, more a reflection on the music and the character he was portraying, rather than any lack on his part. He remains a singer I often wonder why he does not get better roles that show off his voice, but then maybe this is his choice too.
Elizabeth Campbell in her multiple roles, showed us why she remains one of Australia's pre-eminent oratorio singers. Her big mezzo voice was a model of clarity, making singing in English seem so easy. She was the only singer I could consistently understand, without ever needing the surtitles. Yes, she may have come across a bit less in character at times, but, with her roles I was not going to complain when every word was so clear.
David Corcoran sang with his usual ringy tenor voice. He seemed more confident than I have heard him before, but at the same time, I really do not think English is a good language for him. To my ear, he is all ping, with not enough body to his voice. This could be just me, but I like a fuller tenor voice than his. However, he was impressive as the captain of the ship that Philomele falls for, causing Tereus fits of jealousy.
Also, Taryn Fiebig sang a suitably radiant (if surprisingly vindictive) Aphrodite. Much of the blame for what happened gets sheeted home to her, yet, at best, she could only be said to be encouraging others to act out on their desires, rather than making those desires happen.
The music you ask? Well, I would probably describe it as fitting into a Britten-ish sound world. So, mostly tonal, with melody more likely to happen in snatches than full out arias. At the same time, there are exerptable solo moments of considerable beauty, and some quite powerful ensemble sections, making for a score that really demands multiple listenings to get a deeper appreciation for it. (Not to mention, the showstopping "Song of the Nightingale" at the end) It also reflects a keen ear for how to set words for voices, which considering the composer's long involvement with WA Opera, is not unsurprising.
The staging was initially annoying, till I adjusted to it. Having a series of platforms that roll around on stage to indicate different locations seems annoying at first, but it was made to work. You forgot it was just staging, and it became the locations, be they the palace at Athens, the boat, the beach or the palace in Thrace. It also enabled some quite difficult scenes of violence and outrageous behaviour to take place, without loss of believability, which was quite something.
Now, I have to say, for some, the moralising of some of the characters towards the end was annoying. For me, it was not, mainly because it fitted in with the whole Greek chorus thing that was happening. After all, ancient Greek theatre relied on the chorus to moralise, and ask the hard questions. Having said that it did go on for quite some time, to drum the point home, that we must ask questions, and we must never be afraid to speak out, lest we too lose the ability to do so.
But ultimately, the ending, with the gloriously over the top vocalise sung by Emma as the nightingale of the title was a fitting ending. It was an indication that we all had to find the way to say what we had no words for, to express the inexpressible. After all, what else is opera for?
