Carmen - SOH - Jan 25, 2008

Carmen

Peter McCallum, reviewer
January 25, 2008

Nothing beastly about the animals, just the staging.

Feeling giddy ... Michael Todd Simpson and Kirstin Chavez in Carmen.
Photo: Domino Postiglione

The toreador's entrance into Act 2's Goyaesque tavern was splendid in every way, but just before the famous toreador refrain, the noble beast on which he was mounted shook its ears with that worrisome intensity that animals conjure when something is not right.

Up to that point, I had been inclined to agree.

The staging of Act 1 was flat, both visually and dramatically, with Tanya McCallin's set of ochre-stained concrete stressing the horizontal, while the direction, by Francesca Zambello and Denni Sayers, seemed intent on creating a crowded stage with formulaic flirtation. This chiefly involved cigarette girls being pawed, lifting skirts and straddling everything that moved and a few things that didn't, while in place of ideas a few gratuitous animals wandered listlessly around, provoking amusement.

However, Kirstin Chavez is an arresting Carmen, and although her seductive aspect in this act was about as subtle as watching tomcats having their tails pulled, the voice (even with a slight tendency to go sharp in this act) captures the same rich fleshiness and freedom as the persona.

As a performance, it grew in stature: in Act 3, when she keeps dealing the cards and finding death, Chavez was able to toll the low notes of her register with remarkable penetration and resonance. She remained statuesque and defiant in voice and spirit to the final moment, even when sprawled across the stage, pretending that the final rape attempt was more potent than it was.

Rosario La Spina's Don Jose was best in Act 2. Tenors need to save the best for the last act in this role. While there was no hint of vocal fatigue at the end (the less controlled moments were, in fact, in Act 1), the performance had passed its peak in terms of dramatic and vocal intensity.

Sarah Crane sang Micaela, the good girl's role, with an ideal mixture of vocal sweetness, fluid musical shape and suppressed inner fervour, and was one of the few characters whose on-stage dignity rivalled the horse.

As Escamillo the toreador, Michael Todd Simpson was tall and amiable, and a fine singer and table-top dancer: the persona and voice tended more towards the affable than the hypnotically erotic.

The support characters were strong, with Sian Pendry and Amy Wilkinson making an engaging gypsy pair in Act 3. Smugglers Luke Gabbedy and Graeme Macfarlane mercurially oiled the wheels of the action while troopers Andrew Moran and Shane Lowrencev failed to block its spokes.

The conductor, Richard Hickox, led a well-balanced orchestra with an unusually strong string section.

Carmen - SOH - Jan 24, 2008

Visually remarkable but ultimately lacking in depth by Sarah Noble

Bizet: Carmen Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 24 January 2008

Francesca Zambello's production of Bizet's Carmen, which premiered at the Royal Opera House in 2006 and opened in Sydney on Thursday evening, opens with a striking, Goya-esque tableau of a handcuffed and bloodied Don José - the imprisoned murderer of Carmen. He's led roughly offstage and the opera follows as José's flashback. It's an unconventional start to an otherwise hypertraditional production. Zambello's Carmen bursts with local colour, brilliant detail and the odd surprise: a half-naked village girl, a real live donkey, flamenco dancers and a show-stealing black horse for Escamillo. She has succeeded in breathing vibrant new life into an opera which can easily become cliché. However that vibrancy, which depends largely on production values, only goes so far. With an occasional exception, the opera contains a set of performances which, while engaging enough, could nevertheless come from any less visually imaginative production.. The new life which Zambello has brought doesn't stretch beyond the gorgeous surface, and the result is an attractive but ultimately slightly shallow Carmen. That said, Kirstin Chávez makes a mightily alluring Carmen, an intelligent portrayal which neither descends to outright sluttishness nor exaggerates the character's unconventional virtues. Hers is a voice full of the requisite Bohemian fire and earthy sex appeal, a velvety mezzo in the same black and scarlet tones as her costumes, and she is disarmingly at ease in the role. As Don José, Rosario La Spina displays improving musical sensitivity, his tendency to shout pleasingly curbed in favour of a subtler approach. Some high passages are still pushed too hard but overall his singing here indicates reassuring artistic progress. Unfortunately, his Don José sounds romantic but doesn't particularly look it, his stilted behaviour towards both Carmen and Micaela showing little evidence of devotion or passion for either. Sarah Crane brings sweet, ringing tone to the innocent Micaela, though she's slightly too soubrettish for the role; Micaela is young, but she has a grave, mature soul which is better reflected by a fuller lyric voice. She's best in her early ensemble scenes; later, her "Je dis que rien ne m'épouvante" is touching and pretty, but rather mercilessly exposed. Baritone Michael Todd Simpson is the suave toréador Escamillo, bringing a slender but elegant voice to the part, though he's done no favours by the theatre's poor acoustics. His is an understated Escamillo; at times this appeals but ultimately it makes him slightly difficult to accept as the local celebrity and dashing thief of Carmen's heart.

Carmen's cohorts Frasquita and Mercédès are sung by soprano Amy Wilkinson and mezzo Sian Pendry respectively, both current members of Young Artists programme. They sing with spirit and style; Pendry in particular shows real promise, displaying the sturdy, colourful voice of a Carmen in the making. Andrew Moran shows impressive vocal command as Moralès, while Shane Lowrencev makes an amusingly lecherous Zuniga. Luke Gabbedy and Graeme Macfarlane are the smugglers Dancaïro and Remendado, at their rascally best in the ensemble "Nous avons en tête une affaire". The Opera Australia chorus is characterful and enthusiastic in the opera's many crowd scenes, taking well-deserved pleasure in the famous Toréador Song. The boys of the remarkably small chorus of urchins (only nine or ten) are likewise a credit to the company. The score of Carmen is one of the best known in the repertory. To maintain interest it needs a conductor who can maintain a lively pace without riding roughshod over the detail. Opera Australia has lavished one of the finest conductors in its stable - Music Director Richard Hickox - upon the piece, and he more or less manages this feat. He starts the overture almost the very second he reaches the podium, and continues to conduct a Carmen at once exciting and familiarly jolly - no shocking turns of orchestral phrase, but no slipping into autopilot either. However, on opening night there was quite a tug of war between Hickox and Chávez regarding tempi, particularly in her Habanera - the only blot on an otherwise smoulderingly beautiful rendition. The issue eventually seemed to resolve itself, though it was difficult to tell who was bent to whose will. Carmen has been an audience favourite for a very long time. Productions such as Zambello's ensure it will remain so for years to come, revitalising the opera's beloved aspects without challenging the assumptions which underlie that adored status. Nevertheless this is a visually remarkable Carmen ultimately let down by dramatic superficiality and thus, while impressive, is never genuinely exceptional. Zambello's Carmen preaches to the choir, offering an array of delights guaranteed to please those who adore the opera already, but likely to leave hungry those in search of psychological depth or a dash of revolution.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Cenerentola - SOH - Jan 18, 2008

Capturing the magic of La Cenerentola by Sarah Noble

Rossini: La Cenerentola Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 18 January 2008

It's Cinderella, but not as we know it. Rossini's La Cenerentola retains the basic story - the downtrodden and virtuous cinder-girl who enchants a prince and transcends her nasty stepfamily - but excises its supernatural aspects. No transfigured rodents, no pumpkin, no glass slipper and no fairy godmother. Instead, the story is recast to better fit comic opera conventions. Cenerentola/Angelina resembles a less frivolous Rosina, a strong-willed young woman, oppressed by circumstances, but convinced that she can triumph - her opening aria, the simple canzone "Una volta c'era un rè", tells of a king in search of a wife who chose innocence and goodness over pomp and beauty. The accidentally abandoned glass slipper is replaced by a bracelet (one of a pair) which Angelina herself gives to the man she loves, thus taking control of her own destiny. Fairytales from Perrault to Disney abound in truly terrifying evil stepmothers, but Cenerentola has instead a bumbling buffo basso stepfather (ironically named Don Magnifico); her stepsisters are silly, conceited girls but never menacing. Replacing the fairy godmother as deus ex machina is the prince's wise old tutor Alidoro - whose name, literally "wings of gold", acknowledges his magical origins - who oversees a typically opera buffa series of disguises and swapped identities. The Prince (Don Ramiro) switches places with his valet (Dandini). The pure-heared Cenerentola falls for the penniless valet; while the disguised Dandini easily exposes the heartless vanity of the sisters. The fairies, spells and enchanted flora and fauna might be gone, but thanks to Rossini's ever inventive (even if in places self-plagiarised) and sprightly score, and a truly lovely rendering by Opera Australia, the magic is not. Directed by Michael Hampe, with sets and costumes by Reinhard Heinrich, the production finds other ways to bewitch - the stepsisters' preposterously lavish frocks, storybook sets and best of all, a frenzied dash through the storm by a horse and carriage in Gothic silhouette, a coup de théâtre which drew much laughter and applause from the audience. Plenty of magic, too, in the evening's performances. Dominica Matthews, a 2007 Young Artist now taking on her first lead role with the company, is a winning Cenerentola, determined but sweet. Blessed with both a full, fascinating lower register and a bright (if occasionally edgy) top - not to particular brand of agility which Rossini's operas demand - she tackles the role's vocal challenges with verve and clear-voiced beauty, and mostly emerges triumphant. At this early stage of her career, she mightn't yet be prima donna enough to carry the whole show herself; but she certainly shows signs of blossoming into just such a talent.

Don Ramiro is sung by Kanen Breen, one of Opera Australia's more unusual artists - a lyric tenor whose greatest asset is not his voice (appealing but rarely distinctive and occasionally worryingly constricted) but his prodigious gift for physical comedy. With his matinée idol features, he could be the illegitimate operatic offspring of Buster Keaton and Ivor Novello. He certainly makes a wonderfully funny Prince; but the fact remains that it's Prince Charming whom Cinderella falls for, not Prince Great Sense of Humour, and his characterisation, both physical and vocal, could have done with a touch more suavity. If there's a show-stealer in this Cenerentola, it's Joshua Bloom's Dandini. Bloom has already won a Green Room Award for his portrayal of the role, and it's hardly surprising - he's irresistibly, outrageously hilarious, especially when camping it up in Act II to disconcert Don Magnifico. He matches comic brilliance with vocal splendour, an opulent and flexible baritone. David Thelander is disappointingly underpowered as Alidoro; he has some attractive passages but lacks the commanding vocal and physical presence which his role as puppeteer requires. Richard Alexander fares somewhat better as Don Magnifico, but is ultimately too generic, missing the role's abundant opportunities for hilarity. The two stepsisters - one hesitates to call them "ugly" as both look and sound rather pretty - make no such mistake. Taryn Fiebig is a deliciously bright-toned Clorinda, showcasing her none-too-shabby ballet skills in the opening scene, and is well matched by Jacqueline Dark's ebullient mezzo as Tisbe. The men of the Opera Australia chorus are superb as the royal entourage, their singing crisp and precise and their synchronised fawning highly amusing. Maestro Brad Cohen draws a mostly cohesive, idiomatic performance from the AOBO, skilfully balancing overbubbling wit with a strong sense of line and elegance and deftly supporting the singers. Rossini's La Cenerentola mightn't be a fairytale in the strictest sense, but there's little doubt of its power to enchant, and with this smart production and a generally impressive cast, Opera Australia goes a long way toward capturing that magic.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Cenerentola - SOH - Jan 14, 2008

La Cenerentola

Peter McCallum, reviewer
January 14, 2008

A testament to opera's fidelity to its bel canto roots and its determination never to be taken entirely seriously as an art form.

In some respects it is surprising that Rossini's La Cenerentola continues to be performed at all by major opera companies: the survival of this pantomime work is a testament to opera's fidelity to its bel canto roots and its determination never to be taken entirely seriously as an art form.

When Rossini wrote it in 1817, it was a manifestation of popular escapism from the grimness of post-Napoleonic regimes, and he weaves together unreconstructed enlightenment ideals about clemency and virtuous rulers which were an anachronism in their time and whose contemporary relevance is doubly questionable. It remains an expensive version of the children's fairy story (without pumpkin and slippers) primarily watched by adults who feel it would be a perfect introduction for children if only they could be captured at that crucial point between fidgetiness and rebellion. Few can, but hope springs eternal.

This production gives a young team valuable opportunities in major roles. As Angelina (Cinderella), Dominica Matthews is a promising coloratura mezzo soprano who, in the simple arias of Act I, had warmth without wobble and, in the virtuosic closing show-stopper, Nacqui All'Affanno, had agility and focus throughout the demanding two-octave-plus range over which Rossini asks his singer to skate. Sometimes, there is an element of caution which slightly inhibits the nuance and shaping behind each phrase and occasionally gives an impression of inflexibility but this is a creditable role debut.

Kanen Breen, as the handsome prince, has a penetrating edge to his voice, well suited to comedy, as though he sang everything with a light chuckle, giving his Act II aria Si, Ritrovarla Io Guiro effective precision. In some respects his voice and Matthews's didn't blend at all in the love duet of Act I, though this imparted its own comic charm, like a bean-pole wooing a homely maid.

Taryn Fiebig, as the stepsister Clorinda, had true Rossinian lightness and colour, while Jacqueline Dark (Tisbe) brought warmth to ensembles. Under conductor Brad Cohen, those ensembles were not always together, although the choice of tempos was generally apt.

One recent press advertisement for a children's pantomime proclaimed the educational value of repetitive learning and Rossini's sequences certainly provide plenty of opportunities for that, and perhaps a little more scope for variety and sharply pointed phrasing in the orchestral playing than was exploited here.

Richard Alexander created a fine character role, vocally and dramatically, out of the pompous baron, Don Magnifico.

With fly-in sets and silhouetted shadow plays, this production by Michael Hampe (direction), Reinhard Heinrich (design) and Nigel Levings builds on the artificialities of pantomime and, as a way to give your children expensive tastes, it is certainly recommended.

La Boheme - SOH - Jan 7, 2008

Kwon creates a precious beauty

Reviewed by Peter McCallum
January 7, 2008

La Boheme, Opera Australia, Opera House, January 4

The Paris of Simon Phillips's production of Puccini's La Boheme is not the sort of Paris you imagine; though, with its cheap accommodation, bad wiring and grimy car parks, it is possibly the one you will get, at least on a modern budget.

His bohemians are generation Y males, who use laptops, do drugs and leave the toilet seat up and, although some of the transposition of 19th-century deprivations to contemporary ones are contrived (burning a print-out of your latest play for warmth doesn't have quite the devil-may-care abandon of burning a handwritten text), the attempt is generally amusing.

However, this is not really the point. As the writer Carl Dahlhaus pointed out, Paris is as much the heroine of Boheme as Mimi. You have to love them both. You have to feel that in the intoxication of the Cafe Momus, that, for a brief moment, the problems of the world and the problems of your love life are inextricably fused and equally solvable. Loving is easy to do in the case of Hye Seoung Kwon's Mimi, who is becoming Opera Australia's patron saint of dying waifs.

But Phillips and the designer, Stephen Curtis, have replaced Paris with an anonymous modern city space overtaken by what Milan Kundera has called the Age of Total Ugliness.

Kwon's voice is still on the small side for this role, but the purity of sound and vowel creates a precious beauty, which sat very well with her fragile characterisation, and she was able to rise to great strength in Act III. In fact it was Acts III and IV that redeemed this performance after a first half that lacked both dramatic and musical passion (despite the efforts of a splendid breakdancer just before the curtain).

As Rodolfo, Aldo Di Toro didn't quite sustain the long lines of the great duet at the end of Act I, with a slight tendency to let the tension out of the voice between phrases, despite an undeniably attractive lightness in all parts of his range.

But in the last two acts, things became both musically and dramatically galvanised and Phillips should be congratulated for finding a way of setting Puccini's difficult final close plausibly without losing impact.

The gen Y males, though uncouth, are splendid, Jose Carbo powerful and suave as Marcello, Jud Arthur, as the dreadlocked drug-dealing philosopher Colline, soberly renunciatory in the Act IV coat song, and Warwick Fyfe intense as the burning-eyed musician Schaunard. Amelia Farrugia's Musetta was vocally bright and involving in the second and final acts, although cluttered direction deprived her vocally fine Quando M'en Vo Soletta in Act II of seductiveness, pushing it towards meretricious parody, to which John Bolton Wood (Benoit and Alcindoro) was a willing fall guy.

The conductor, Giovanni Reggioli, allowed musical lines to float with an instinctive ear for dramatic pace and the result from the orchestra was well-shaped and rewarding despite occasional weaknesses, particularly in the woodwind.

La Bohème - SOH - 4 January 2008

Contemporary, but comfortable and suitably tragic by Sarah Noble

Puccini: La bohème Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 4 January 2008

Updating operas isn't necessarily a risky business; there are ways of playing it safe. Simon Phillips' production of Puccini's La bohème, which opened Opera Australia's 2008 season, does just this. The sets and costumes are recognisably, and at times even surprisingly, modern-day - Rodolfo writes his poem on a laptop, the crowd around Café Momus includes a breakdancer in gold lurex, and the reunion of Mimi and Rodolfo takes place amid dumpsters and wheelie bins. Within his contemporary frame, though, Phillips does little to court controversy. Having recontextualised the action, he more or less lets it be, and the core theme of the opera - the blossoming of love and friendship in conditions of extreme poverty - is left unmeddled with. Other than their clothes and lodgings, there's little about Rodolfo's and Mimi's behaviour and interaction that reflects the modern setting, though Marcello's and Musetta's tempestuous relationship is slightly more twenty-first century. The poet Rodolfo is sung with silky legato and bright, compact tone by tenor Aldo Di Toro. His is an appealingly understated performance, responding well to the lyrical expansiveness of the score but resisting melodramatic vocal gestures. This occasionally means he's swallowed up in the orchestra, but when his own musical climaxes arrive, such as at Mimi's death, the contrast is all the more powerful. Hye Seoung Kwon brings a pretty, girlish (if at times too vibrato-laden) sound and sweet stage presence to Mimi, but both voice and characterisation lack depth; this will no doubt come as Kwon, whose career is still in relative infancy, has time to settle into the role and put her own stamp upon it. There was stagey affection but little palpable chemistry between the couple, though this may simply have been down to opening night jitters.

Chemistry aplenty, however, came from the opera's other couple, the fiery, on-again off-again pairing of Marcello and Musetta. José Carbo is in towering form as the former, his rich, expressive baritone dominating his every scene and easily filling the house. Amelia Farrugia brings wit, humanity and sparkling tone to Musetta. Jud Arthur is a sonorous yet playful Colline, touching in his brief aria, a farewell to his treasured overcoat. Warwick Fyfe's Schaunard suffered initially from rather muddy diction and breathy delivery but shortly blossomed into a winning and humorous performance. John Bolton Wood brings every ounce of his buffo basso expertise to bear in his two brilliant cameos, as the grouchy landlord Benoit and then as Musetta's baffled sugar-daddy, Alcindoro. The Opera Australia chorus is in typically excellent form, adding real energy and fun to the Act II crowd scene. Maestro Giovanni Reggioli leads the AOBO through a sprightly and atmospheric rendering of Puccini's score. Rodolfo and Mimi might be an iconic couple, but La bohème is in its essence an ensemble piece. Opera Australia has put together an cast who work well together, a combination of old hands and relative debutantes. Set against the backdrop of Simon Phillips' affectionate modernisation, this La bohème while not madly passionate, is nevertheless heartwarming and quietly tragic. This is a contemporary but comfortable La bohème; and whether that's a blessing or a bit of a disappointment depends entirely on your point of view.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica