Mozart. Thwarted.

Review – Idomeneo (Royal Opera House, Monday 3 November 2014)

Idomeneo – Matthew Polenzani
Idamante – Franco Fagioli
Ilia – Sophie Bevan
Elettra – Malin Byström
Arbace – Stanislas de Barbeyrac
High Priest – Krystian Adam
The Voice – Graeme Broadbent
Cretans – Tamsin Coombs, Louise Armit, Andrew O’Connor & John Bernays

Director – Martin Kušej
Set Designs – Annette Murschetz
Costume Designs – Heide Kastler
Lighting Design – Reinhard Traub
Dramaturg – Olaf A Schmitt

Royal Opera House Chorus
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House

Marc Minkowski (Conductor)

In a recent interview in The Times, director Martin Kušej – clearly attempting to annoint himself the enfant terrible of opera – commented that “with knowledge, respect — and with some freedom — we could really bring [opera] out of the 19th century”.

But take it where?

Judging from the new production of Idomeneo for Covent Garden, Kušej has dragged the genre kicking and screaming to the director’s equivalent of an abbatoir and taken a huge, bloody knife to its throat.

I have no problems with a modern approach to opera – I didn’t object to Kušej’s Forza in Munich, and other productions have been both challenging and immensely enjoyable. But this production of Idomeneo showed scant appreciation of Mozart’s opera or indeed any understanding of its provenance.

But a production is made more tolerable if the singing and the musicianship is of a high standard. Sadly, and despite the impressive line-up, I didn’t think that overall, it passed muster.

However plaudits must go most certainly to Sophie Bevan and Matthew Polenzani as Ilia and Idomeneo. Having enjoyed her Sophie, as the Trojan Princess, Ms Bevan once again demonstrated that she possesses a beautifully bright, light and flexible soprano that was perfectly suited for this role. And she combined a natural talent for Mozart with a real sense of characterization. Padre, germani, addio! caught the conflict that she felt and while Minkowski to Zeffiretti lusinghieri far too fast – where the zephyrs would have not so much caressed as buffeted any young lover – her technique allowed her to negotiate the rapid passages while conveying her love for Idamante.

As the Cretan King, Polenzani once again demonstrated his agile, richly timbred voice. Fuor del mar was thrilling, especially the da capo, and the cavatina with chorus, Accogli, o re del mar was spun with great delicacy.

Special mention too of the Arbace of Stanislas de Barbeyrac – who rightly received one of the loudest cheers at the end. I won’t even begin to fathom why he was dressed like an accordion-carrying-rambler, but his aria – with gently floated dynamics – made for a promising debut.

I am always in two minds about Franco Fagioli. There is no doubting that he has incredible technique and an impressive range, however, I was not wholly convinced by his Idamante. While he was relatively sweet-toned throughout the evening, here was a distinct lack of diction – as if he was swallowing his words rather than projecting them.

Similarly, I am not sure – after such a strong performance most recently as Donna Anna – if Elettra is a suitable role for Malin Byström. Sure enough – and despite some lack of co-ordination with the pit – Ms Byström could channel the vocal fury of the scorned princess, but she simply sounded vocally stressed in Placido è il mar.

In the pit, apart from a few faster-than-expected tempi, Minkowski brought to life the rhythmic verve and highlighted much of the orchestras detail within the score – especially in the ballet music. And while I was not always convinced by the exuberance of the continuo playing, it wasn’t as distracting as some I have heard.

But ultimately it was the production that dragged down this Idomeneo. This opera was written for a ducal court influenced by Enlightenment principles. The libretto reflected the idea of conflicted yet benign sovereignty and ultimately a burgeoning new balance in the order of things. I don’t dispute that the opera can be read in many different ways – but his vision of unremitting thuggery and violence simply isn’t in either the text or in the music.

What Kušej gave us was, quite literally, like shooting fish in a Personregie-barrel. Men rushing around carrying machine guns. Men in underpants being abused. Men dressed rockers. A pantomime High Priest. Children dressed in what can only be described as gym kit. Children carry guns. Fish. And even a shark. The only alleviation from the inanity of it all was the revolving set and what little characterization played out by the singers seemed to be of their own making – and mostly one dimensional.

I also didn’t buy his line about the ballet music only being “partially interesting”. Because, in reality his series of tableaux spoke more eloquently that the anything that preceded it. The enduring image that the “new order” was tainted, that the new generation would repeat the mistakes of the previous generation struck home was actually quite powerful.

It’s just a shame that his sense of narrative didn’t extend to the opera itself.

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La Traviata – The Beauty & Brutality

Review – The Metropolitan Opera HD Broadcast (Saturday 14 April)

Violetta Valéry – Natalie Dessay
Alfredo Germont – Matthew Polenzani
Giorgio Germont – Dmitri Hvorostovsky
Flora Bervoix – Patricia Risley
Annina – Maria Zifchak

Production – Willy Decker
Set & Costume Designer – Wolfgang Gussmann
Lighting Designer – Hans Toelstede
Choreographer – Athol Farmer

New York Metropolitan Opera Chorus
New York Metropolitan Opera Orchestra
Conductor- Fabio Luisi

According to Deborah Voigt I am one of millions who has experienced live performances from The Met via live HD simulcasts. My first was the final instalment of LePage’s Ring cycle Götterdämmerung, and while the production itself remains as flawed as it was for his Die Walküre, I couldn’t fault the high production values of the broadcast itself.

So with that in mind it wasn’t a hard decision to book a seat for Willy Decker’s production of La Traviata. Not only to see what all the original fuss was about when this pared down production debuted in Salzburg in 2005, but also to hear Natalie Dessay essay her Violetta.

And this was also my second Verdi production at The Met. My first was Il Trovatore during my visit to see Die Walküre live. It was not a good experience and at the time I did wonder if Peter Gelb and his management team allowed the lure of high box office returns overwhelm their good sense in casting the opera. The principals were poor and the conducting even worse. The evening was only salvaged by David McVicar’s production.

So after this production of La Traviata I found myself asking the same question. Had Gelb and his Finance Director fallen into the honey trap offered by Ms Dessay? She first sang the role at Santa Fé in 2009 but three years later in a bigger house I wonder if I was the only person left disappointed?

Do not misunderstand me. I am an admirer of Natalie Dessay in Handel, Mozart, the bel canto composers and even the CD of Strauss excerpts alongside Felicity Lott, Angelika Kirchschlager, Sophie Koch, Thomas Allen under Antonio Pappano and the players of Covent Garden.

But Verdi’s La Traviata is an unforgiving opera. Not only is the story harsh and brutal, but the music he wrote literally takes no prisoners and is similarly brutal as it exposes those who tackle it. Fortunately the sublime beauty of Verdi’s music is that even when the singing is mediocre his genius shines through. And this was very much the case in The Met’s production.

As an actress she was – at times – painfully convincing but for me her performance in the title role exposed her vocal vulnerabilities mercilessly. While Ms Dessay sang all the notes – and who really cares that she didn’t sing the top ‘e’ at the end of the first act – there was something that remained just out of her grasp throughout the evening. Quite simply she lacked a richness of tone and heft for the music that Verdi wrote for his consumptive courtesan. Her voice remained flat and one dimensional throughout and added to this it seemed that for significant parts of the opera she was either in front of or behind the beat coming from the pit.

In short, Natalie Dessay’s Violetta was as colourless and pale as we would presume to be the pallor of her skin due to her prognosis.

And while son and father, Alfredo and Giorgio – Matthew Polenzani and Dmitri Hvorostovsky – fared better in delivering heft, what they made up in volume they lacked in subtlety. Polenzani has a rich timbred voice and is a good actor but there was little finesse or delicacy in his singing when it was required. As for Hvorostovsky it seems that his volume button is forever jammed on ‘loud’ and finesse is simply out of the question. What should have been a seminal series of scenes in the second act simply reminded me of shouting matches in my own Italian family’s household in moments of crisis. Except my parents really could act.

Indeed the most refreshing performances of the evening were the brightly projected roles of Maria Zifchak as Annina and the Flora Bervoix of Patricia Risley.

And in the pit was Fabio Luisi. In my last blog regarding the Met it was pointed out to me that Maestro Luisi was conducting Wagner like Verdi. I am afraid to say that in La Traviata his conducting was less Verdi and as lacklustre as the vast majority of performances on the stage. Admittedly it might be a problem of hearing the orchestra once-removed via satellite but – giving modern digital technology the benefit of the doubt – Luisi seemed to be conducting by rote with a distinct lack of bite being coaxed from the orchestra. Clearly Luisi is a virtual shoo-in to replace Levine at some point in the future. It would be a shame if this happenstance was merely the result of being in the right room at the right time rather than on account of his ability.

Elsewhere on the stage the chorus was impressive. The ensemble singing was for the most part strong but all credit to choreographer Athol Farmer for marshalling them so effectively and tapping into a real sense of menace especially in the second act.

And that sense of menace and brutality was at the core of Willy Decker’s production. It takes a brave and talented theatre director to take a well-loved opera and pare it back. And pare it back Decker did to literally nothing. And it was incredibly effective and emotive.

The main set was completely empty bar a single clock face and a solitary figure. It wasn’t too hard to deduce this was Violetta’s doctor Grenvill (Luigi Roni) and together with the clock, he was a constant reminder of her impending death. Built into the wall was a bench on which the protagonists either sat or walked along as the drama unfolded. And above the bench was a space where the chorus appeared. At some point towards the end of the first act as the chorus leaned forward from above as voyeurs on Violetta and Alfredo it occurred to me that perhaps Decker had been inspired somewhat by ancient Greek theatre.

The opening of the second act literally bloomed with flowers. The protagonists were robed in floral patterns and the sofas were extravagantly draped in them. But again Decker never let us forget – however subtly – the transience of the relationship and Violetta’s own life. The poignancy for example of their innocent game of hide and seek or how Violetta herself pulled off the covers, literally stripping bare the veneer of her own life before she is forced to abandon her life of happiness in the country.

However it was Decker’s reinterpretation of the Spanish divertissement that was a master stoke that underlined the brutality and violence of their world. Dispensing with the normally expected flamenco dancers and matadors, in Decker’s mind the divertissement became a malicious and cruel critique of Violetta’s life.

Even Decker’s resolution of moving without break from the second to final act was inspired, with the chorus – Violetta’s former party people – leaving her to her demise only to return later to reclaim the clock face for their ‘new’ Violetta who is even dressed in the dying courtesan’s red dress.

It was only in the closing scenes – and more as a result of her acting skills than her vocal ability – that Dessay almost convinced me that she was an almost credible Violetta even if she remained vocally bland to the end.

So while not the most disappointing La Traviata I have ever seen, this production – where the director has stripped away all artifice – requires singing and conducting of the highest standard for all the elements to fuse together effectively.

Unfortunately this wasn’t the case. This could have marred the entire evening had it not been for Decker’s single-minded production and – as stated above – the fact that the genius and beauty of Verdi’s music can overcome even the most mediocre singing.