Showing posts with label GraemeMurphy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label GraemeMurphy. Show all posts

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Now THAT is how you Turandot!





That is how you Turandot, or, maybe I should say, THAT is how you CALAF, for as much as Lise Lindstrom is amongst the finest Turandots you can hire at the moment (and, yes, she is VERY GOOD) last night's Turandot from opera Australia was very much the show of Calaf. I say that, having seen another very good Calaf in the same production previously (albeit with a less successful Turandot) a few years ago.

But, last night, was special. Very Special. I cannot remember a time when the star imported soprano got a smaller applause than the tenor in a big role. And, when that star imported soprano was singing her career defining role, and singing it very well. But, such was the caliber of the performance, that any of the six big leads in this show (Calaf, Turandot, Liu, Ping, Pang and Pong) would have not been out of place in any cast in any major opera theatre. The fact that four of them are Australian, makes me very pleased.

So, first of all, this was the much loved Graeme Murphy Turandot with the gorgeous designs of  the late Kristian Fredrickson. And yes, it is glorious magnificent from start to finish, with both costuming and other fabric used to create mood and beautiful stage pictures (see here). And, yes, this production was created with a great deal of thought, time and care. It was Graeme Murphy's first opera production, and probably will remain his finest, born of a long standing love of this opera, and his innate sense of theatre. Yes, he makes the cast move a lot more than normal (as expected when your main claim to fame is choreography and dance) but it is all done with thought, and care. If, the Ping Pang & Pong reminiscence scene is a bit too busy and silly (and I did not notice it being so last night, which reflects well on the performers) that can be blamed as much on Puccini and his librettists as on Murphy. That scene does seem too long many times, and holding up the action. But, that is its point. Last night, it became a calm peaceful respite, before the glorious loud noises of the riddle scene.

So, to the cast. It was a measure of the strength of this cast, that despite my decision to go to this performance based on the Turandot of Lise Lindstrom, at the end of Act 1, with Turandot not having sung a note, I was very happy with what I had heard.The trio of Ping Pang and Pong, in the hands of Luke Gabbedy, Graeme Macfarlane and John Longmuir really did function as one. Their antics were never a threat to their sound, and their ensemble singing was impressive.

As Timur, the mystery prince's father, we had the imposing Jud Arthur. His was a convincing old man, which for those of us who know what he looks like (tall, fit and muscular), is impressive. His was a Timur we could care about, especially as he was ably assisted by the glorious Liu of Hyeseoung Kwon. Her years of singing this role means she probably can sing it in her sleep, but, she really does embody this role. Her death will bring a tear to your eye. Everytime.

As the ice princess herself, we had the reason I chose to come to the first cast, the lovely Lise Lindstrom. Her voice is not the big warm Italianate sound of many Turandots, but the ice of a Nilsson or similar. It is a metallic sound that cuts clearly through the complexity of the orchestra and chorus singing at full pelt. And, considering that where I was sitting meant that full volume felt like low level aural assault, yes, she is loud!! And, yes, she does come much closer to a successful portrayal of the ice princess melting than most Turandots do. But, doing that is a challenge for anyone, with how it is written. Going from watching the person you are about to have tortured kill herself, to turning yourself into someone allowing herself to fall in love for the first time. Its a big ask for anyone, even with Puccini writing the music for it (though, that is assembled by Alfano for the final act in the version we heard). That Lindstrom makes you see the wavering to allowing love, and make you believe,  is no mean feat.

But, ultimately, the night belonged to the Calaf of Yonghoon Lee, and the glorious chorus. That such a small chorus can sound so large, and produce so much sound with such precision, is a powerful statement. They have long been good, but under Anthony Hunt, they are growing even stronger. Small numbers do not mean small sounds.

And the Calaf. Yonghoon actually managed to make me forget that Calaf is a complete selfish prick. His is a likeable foolhardy Calaf who you wanted to win. He poured forth large amounts of beautiful ringing secure tenor sounds from start to finish. He has a much lighter higher sound than most of the Calafs you hear. It is more the sound you might expect to hear as say Rodolfo, rather than Calaf. But, he certainly had the power to sing over the chorus, and to sing that aria with sufficient style and conviction, that to compare him to other recent tenors of significance would be churlish. This is a voice that should much better known.

But, really, last night was a night of great opera. It sounded great, it looked magnificent, and, that ultimate arbiter of technique, my throat, never started feeling sore in sympathy with any of the singers. It was the sort of night where everything was just gloriously good, and you could just wallow in the beautiful sounds that Christian Badea was pulling from the cast and orchestra. Could you ask for more?




This is the tenor who takes over in August, showing what the production looks like in full flight




Sunday, November 18, 2012

A brief Ballet post




So, last night we went to the ballet, a most unusual thing for me. I've never really got the ballet, something I will openly admit. I mean, sure I enjoy ogling the hot bodies of the males and admire the athleticism, but it does not move me. Not the way a good opera performance will. But that is me, others will.

So, there we were at the ballet, seeing three pieces from the Australian Ballet's past, put together as Icons. All three are significant works from the past of the company, and in many ways, each has helped to define the company through the years, being works that keep being presented at regular intervals.

The first one, "the Display" I am will openly say I did not like. It seemed both an unlikely piece and one that portrayed Australian society in an unpleasant light. A girl goes into the bush for a picnic, watches a lyrebird dance, is joined by her boyfriend, his friends and their girlfriends. the boys drink beer, play Aussie rules and then an outsider turns up. He flirts with the girl, the other males get annoyed, the boyfriend fights the outsider and they all leave the outsider for dead. The girl comes back later, finds the outsider, who then "rapes" the girl, they get disturbed by the lyrebird, causing the boy to run off. The lyrebird mounts the girl, with her apparent willingness.

Now, don't get me wrong. I could see most of that happening (apart from the lyrebird mounting a girl, obviously) But, as a ballet I found the subject lacking the beauty I was expecting. Where was the pleasure I was paying to get (Although I had not paid in this case, it was a gift from a friend for us) To be sure, it spoke volumes about our fractured society in Australia, that even a bird paid more attention to a girl, than the man she was supposed to be in love with. But there was no one I felt any thing for. Not one person left me moved, not even the plight of the girl. I just watched, impressed by the dancing, unmoved by the story (and there was much to admire in Sir Robert Helpman's choreography, especially the football scene).

Which makes my love of the next piece all the more interesting.Gemini (set to the music of the recently deceased Hans Werner Henze Symphony 3) was a totally abstract piece, with no story, just movement and the interplay between the four dancers. Yet it left me utterly gripped. Amazing performers dancing on a stage whose scenic elements looked like it was a nightmare of a 70's disco, with plain lycra costumes, it gripped you. It was long enough to ensure it did not overstay its welcome, yet left us feeling "that was special" As I said afterwards "that was everything I don't like about ballet, yet I loved it" If I knew ballet well, I could probably explain why, just accept the fact that while it ticked every box that should have set my wankometer into overload, it didn't through some weird alchemy of impressiveness.

Which leaves the final piece, "Beyond Twelve" a piece choreographed by Graeme Murphy to Ravel's Piano Concerto in G. This on paper sounded even more self absorbed and wankerous than the previous piece. The title refers to the age of the dancer of the start. A young boy, caught between his love of (Aussie Rules) football, and the ballet, and his awkward relationship with his parents. The second part of it looks at the same performer after 18, approaching the peak of his power, and experiencing first love, with his dance partner. And the third part (danced to the slow middle movement of the concerto, just to confuse) was about the same dancer as he approached the end of his dancing career, looking back on his life in dance, and towards an uncertain future. You can see why my wankometer threatened to go through the roof for that!

Yet this was definitely the most moving piece of the night. It was funny, it had believable characters and it had humanity. Graeme Murphy has always been a choreographer who at his heart likes to tell stories, and this worked beautifully. Yes, it was self referential,  but it was concerned with universal themes, with ageing, and the way that men struggle to deal with growing old, if they dare to stop and think about the changes. It ended with a dance between the three men who performed the different aged performers, which managed to not be in any way homoerotic, while still demonstrating the power and athleticism of each dancer. The others then left the stage, as the mature dancer took the spotlight, while the scenery was removed, leaving the backbones of the stage, reflecting the uncertain future out of the spotlight. It was a moving ending and an unexpected coup de theatre that felt just right. Just like all of this third part of the night.

The Display, music by Malcolm Williamson, Choreography by Sir Robert Helpman
Gemini, Musc by Hans Werner Henze (symphony 3), Choreography by Glen Tetley
Beyond Twelve, music by Maurice Ravel (Piano concerto in G), choreography by Graeme Murphy