La Sonnambula, Pacific Opera, July 31, 2009

Terrific Pacific

04 Aug 09

by Rod Bennett

Eva Kong

Glen St Theatre proved itself more than worthy to carry opera as an artform when the first performance for Pacific Opera was staged on Friday night, July 31.

La Sonnambula (The Sleepwalker) was warmly received by the packed house when it graced the stage for its opening night.

At last, a professional operatic company on the northern beaches presenting an entire season, and looking to make Glen St its new artistic home.

The balance between singers and orchestra was excellent and the vision was clear and intimate, putting the audience right in the action of this provincial Italian hotel in 1963.

The production itself was great with strong performances from tenor Roy Best in the lead as Elvino, soprano Eva Kong as the female lead Amina, and baritone Adrian Tamburini as Count Rodolpho.

The story in a nutshell is that on the eve of nuptuals between Elvino and Amina plans are thrown into chaos when Amina sleepwalks into the Count’s hotel bedroom, lays on his bed, and is discovered by the entire town.

Simple set designs were elegant and effective.

Being able to see the faces of the performers, their expression and personality, added to clarity of this production (subtitles helped here too).

Glen St director Rob Robertson said he always loved ``the buzz’’ which filled the Glen St foyer of particular post-performance opening nights, and that this was one of those occasions.

Fidelio - Sydney Opera House - 30 July 2009

An unexpected triumph by Sarah Noble

Beethoven: Fidelio Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 30 July 2009

Most of the hype for Opera Australia's Winter Season has focused on the obvious headliners: Graeme Murphy's splashy new Aida, for instance, and a long run of The Mikado starring homegrown heartthrob Anthony Warlow. Amidst all that buzz one might be forgiven for overlooking or underestimating the company's revival of Beethoven's Fidelio, especially after the withdrawal of star soprano Lisa Gasteen, who was to sing the title role. Yet this Fidelio proves that you don't need a new staging, ubiquitous banner ads or even a superstar diva in the lead to create a hit show. Gasteen or no Gasteen, the show has more than its share of star power. Julian Gavin is a stupendous Florestan, solemn and clarion-voiced. He tackles Beethoven's fiendish vocal writing with sure-footed power, offering a persuasive portrayal of the downtrodden yet defiant political prisoner. Even better is Peter Coleman-Wright, as a sensationally evil Don Pizarro, his dark baritone laced with venom and murderous intent. His "Ha, welch ein Augenblick!" is especially terrifying: the stuff of particularly compelling nightmares. On opening night Coleman-Wright charmingly carried his villainous act right into his curtain call, answering the crowd's affectionate boos with a suitably melodramatic swirl of his cape. The greatest triumph of opening night belonged, however, to our Fidelio. Nicole Youl, Gasteen's replacement in the role, having succumbed to a malady of her own, we heard instead rising Australian-Canadian dramatic soprano Elizabeth Stannard. Not only was Stannard making a début in a massively difficult role, she was doing so at extraordinarily short notice, a prior commitment having meant she was unable to join the cast until just the previous day. If she felt herself thrown in at the deep end, it didn't show. Stannard's attentive, if slightly (and understandably) awkward stage presence was impressive given her lack of rehearsal, and she sang with confident, expressive artistry, her facility with the role's challenging runs and wide tessitura easily compensating for a slight lack of heft. It was a significant success by any standards: Stannard's performance would have done her credit even had she been cast in the show from start.

Stellar singing in this production is not limited to this powerful trio. Lorina Gore is a superlative Marzelline, her sparkling soprano slicing deftly through the densest of Beethoven's orchestration without losing its sweetness. Marzelline could easily come across as silly or saccharine, but Gore imbues her instead with real pluck and a trace of dignity, and her radiant presence stands out in the first act's sublime quartet. Stephen Smith is equally impressive as the smitten porter, Jaquino, matching light, graceful singing to an irresistible stage presence. As a 2009 Young Artist, Smith has succeeded in a number of smallish roles this season, but his excellent Jaquino is easily the best of them. Conal Coad brings his characteristic mix of wit, warmth and sonorous, stylish singing to Rocco, the flawed but goodhearted jailer, while Warwick Fyfe is striking in his brief appearance as Don Fernando, the Minister of State, singing with solid authority and looking eerily like Napoleon. There's a typically strong showing from the chorus as well, particularly its men, who sing with soft, transcendent voice in the opera's justly famous Prisoners' Chorus. Cathy Dadd directs this revival of Michael Hampe's seventeen year old production with all the vitality of a brand new vision. Hampe's staging and John Gunter's lavish, visually bold sets and costumes are all resolutely traditional, and Dadd's strong instincts ensure that this quality is never synonymous with stuffiness or boredom. Special mention is due also to Nigel Levings's lighting design: his imagination and sensitivity are vital in an opera so concerned with light and darkness. Conductor Jonathan Darlington's inspired leadership draws out some of the most refined, coherent and simply beautiful playing the AOBO has offered this season, giving appropriate weight to the complexity of Beethoven's orchestral writing without disregarding the singers. Dadd and Darlington are indeed partners in crime, or rather in triumph. As a pair of unifying forces, they draw together all the individually excellent strands of this Fidelio to form a brilliant whole which, however unexpectedly, is one of the company's finest achievements this season.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Ariadne auf Naxos - Victorian Opera, 24, July 2009

Victorian Opera presents Ariadne auf Naxos by Richard Strauss Venue: the Arts Centre, Playhouse Written by Olympia Bowman-Derrick

Friday, 24 July 2009

With Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos the Victorian Opera Company continues to expose Victorians to the vast range and scope of the extant operatic repertoire. Ariadne auf Naxos is an opera within an opera, the first act a very wordy prologue to the performance of the opera in the second act. Two performance troupes, a band of commedia dell’arte and an opera company, are preparing to entertain dinner guests for Major Domo’s party when it is announced, against the composer’s wishes, that the two performances must take place simultaneously to allow time for the fireworks. The plot has all the drama and commotion you could ever wish for in an opera, but without strong direction from James McCaughey, the wordy prologue was very confusing and hard to follow. The stage seemed cluttered, with everything happening all at once. There needed to be a greater contrast between the reality of the backstage preparations and commotion, and the on-stage dramatic performance in the second act. As the Composer, Jacqueline Dark was the highlight of the prologue, her rich resonant voice cutting through the confusion and commanding attention. The second act was much more engaging, the overture highlighting the skill of Orchestra Victoria under Richard Gill. The beautiful liquid harmonies of the trio of nymphs (Melanie Adams, Roxane Hislop, Jessica Aszodi) set the tone for much of the second half, the performers much more comfortable and at home within the opera in the opera. As Ariadne, Elizabeth Stannard’s performance was simple and understated, providing a much-needed respite from the over dramatic caricatures of the prologue. Stannard caressed her phrases and her character with a beautiful lyrical legato. However, as Zerbinetta, Theresa Borg lacked the sass and saucy spirit needed for the commedia coquette. In Zerbinetta’s famous show-stopping aria, Grossmächtige Prinzessin, Borg lacked the technical precision needed for the fiendishly difficult coloratura. Victorian Opera’s Ariadne auf Naxos is a bold and exciting production which, despite its failings, is a success for its pushing of the boundaries of Victorian operatic performance.

Aida - Sydney Opera House - 23 July 2009

Aida | Opera Australia Written by Adrienne Gross

Thursday, 23 July 2009

Above - Michael Lewis (Amonasro) & Tamara Wilson (Aida) kneel before David Parkin (The King).
Photos - Branco Gaica

Opera Australia’s production of Aida is like a beautiful porcelain doll: fun to dress up in pretty dresses, but without the ability to talk. The sumptuous costumes, dynamic set design and effective lighting bring zazzle to technically perfect performers, but the acting and character believability was lacking. Overall Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida is one of those operas to see in one’s lifetime, and with this production, you’ll go home impressed with the cleverness - but you probably won’t shed a tear at the end.

Set in the time of the pharaohs, Aida has four acts over three hours and is one of the grandest Italian-language operas to fill stages worldwide since its premiere in 1871. As with any melodrama, there are love triangles, family feuds, warring nations and a tragic heroine woven into plot twists and turns. The first act opens with warrior wannabe Ramadès being granted his wish to lead the Egyptian army against Ethiopia. Meanwhile, the Egyptian princess Amneris pines for Ramadès, and suspects a rival female attention - later confirmed to be her slave, the captive Ethiopian princess, Aida. After winning the battle, the pharaoh promises Ramadès anything he wants. The story continues with betrayal, dilemmas and the tragic finale.

Overall, Aida is a bit like the most un-politically correct dinner party you can have: where sex, politics and religion are spread out on the table as an audience feast. Indeed, the direction by Graeme Murphy gave the effect that we were the gods, watching the humans create a mess of their lives.

And what a mess - imagine you had to choose between the love of your country and your lover. No wonder Verdi littered the songs with such extreme words as ‘let death be their just destination’ and ‘helpless children slain.’ That level of emotion means expectations are high for some tormented stage presence so powerful that the visceral pain of the character should be spilled into voice and physicality. This is the basis of empathy, a bridge between audience and actor, without which one may as well be watching the midday movie with some Tim Tams. Thus, I was a little disappointed at the disconnection been the performers and their roles. There is no doubting the technical skill of the voices - pure and controlled - but the interaction between characters was like individuals who happened to be on stage with someone else. There are many reasons why this lacking in emotional dialogue exists: mis-casting, minimalist direction, even the plot itself.

However, each performer still gave competent individuality to their roles. Amneris, as played by Milijana Nikolic was the standout, embracing the pharaoh’s daughter role with panache; exuding richness, haughtiness and class. Aida (Tamara Wilson) came across as a lost little girl, quivering with indecision at her fate. Dongwon Shin’s Ramadès held himself grandly and hit the long notes without fault. The supporting characters of High Priest (Jud Arthur) and King of Egypt (David Parkin) performed to their roles with sternness, with Michael Lewis popping with verve as the impassioned patriotic King of Ethiopia Amonasro, who wanted to win at any price. Perhaps that embodiment of emotion is what the other characters needed, in the way they walked, stood and gestured.

Between all the main characters were the dancers and the chorus of men and women. The dancers made for delightful jumpstarts, popping around the stage with grace and clever choreography. The chorus was in tune and provided a background humming of either doom or elation as plot required. Some of the stage action though seemed bit unpolished, as movements weren’t quite so in-time and symmetrical as was most likely intended.

If this production of Aida were a film, surely the Oscar would go to creative associate Janet Vernon and the set designer Roger Kirk, the latter also designing the magnificent costumes. Their combined talents transformed the small stage into a spectacular arrangement of simple and effective scene transitions and dynamic movement. The lighting design by Damien Cooper and projection design by The Brothers Gruchy were also outstanding in creating mood and shifting scenes from desert to lush valleys. I won’t spoil the surprises, but I looked forward to each new scene to see what masterful idea they brought into what is already renowned for being a grand-scale opera.

The grandness was also conducted by Sir Richard Armstrong via the tight and technical performance of the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra, particularly the brass section. The music of Aida isn’t as widespread in Looney Tunes and advertising as is say, the Barber of Seville, but many people would know the Triumphal March. No wonder it’s used at soccer games to celebrate victory - this was the musical climax, with all the performers arranged on stage pooling their voices together in a shaking tremor of glory. Contrasting to the gusto of machismo was the hum-along delicate Possente Fthà, as sung by the maidens of Amneris’ court.

All of the performers were first rate - but as a whole, the cast was a fizzle without the pop. Aida is worth seeing though for the complete theatrical experience: lavish costumes, clever set design and crafted orchestral performance.


Opera Australia presents
Aida
by Giuseppe Verdi
Venue: Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House | Bennelong Point, Sydney
Dates: 15 Jul - 15 Sep 2009
Tickets: $93 - $250

Manon Lescaut - Sydney Opera House - 16 July 2009

A grand and passionate Manon Lescaut by Sarah Noble

Puccini: Manon Lescaut Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 16 July 2009

Puccini was not the first composer, nor even the second, to turn the Abbé Prevost's L'histoire du chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut into an opera. Both Auber and Massenet had already tackled the subject. None of the three adhered too rigidly to the original, which was probably a smart move given the style of its narrative: a sentimental, intermittently moralistic flashback told entirely by the miserable Des Grieux, in which Manon is barely allowed to speak, let alone develop a personality of her own beyond her spectacular selfishness and fatal beauty. Puccini's Manon isn't any more admirable than her literary counterpart, but at least she's three-dimensional. The role is a fearsome prospect for a soprano, requiring serious vocal stamina and an actress who can play the complicated Manon with enough charisma to remind us that she does indeed have a heart. Cheryl Barker rises powerfully to the challenge, charting Manon's extraordinary journey with a slow burning intensity. The role is heavyish for her forceful but essentially lyric instrument, but Barker's sterling technique, thrilling dynamic range and bright, burnished timbre make any serious difficulty hard to detect. Barker's astute characterisation acknowledges Manon's faults alongside her charms, resisting the urge to make the character more heroic than she is. As vital as Puccini heroines have been to Barker's career, this season marks her début as his Manon. While there's still a tantalising hint of depths still to be plumbed, this is nevertheless already an intelligent and fantastically sung creation. As her lover Des Grieux, Mexican tenor Jorge Lopez-Yañez isn't so subtly shaded, but he brings an ardent presence to the stage just the same, along with a voice of idiomatic charm, if slightly raspy at the very top. He's especially engaging in the first act, as a briefly carefree student who falls all too quickly for the woman destined to ruin him. His "Donna non vidi mai" is delivered with tremulous joy, and he moves convincingly through the character's subsequent agonies. The chemistry between the lovers doesn't sizzle but they're still a reasonably well matched pair. Teddy Tahu Rhodes seems a slightly curious choice for Lescaut, Manon's manipulative brother. There's no questioning his charismatic stage presence, and his singing is strong throughout; but Puccini is hardly Rhodes's home repertoire, and the character isn't an ideal temperamental fit either. Rhodes' star power carries him through, but it's hard not to feel he could be more profitably employed elsewhere. More seriously miscast is Richard Alexander as Geronte di Ravoir, the rich and elderly protector to whom Manon succumbs. Alexander sings beautifully, with a firm, mellifluous baritone; but that very voice, and his ridiculous buffo make-up and behaviour, only serve to underline his youth, so that a character who should be genuinely repellent and threatening seems like a commedia dell'arte fool.

Among the supporting cast, tenor Stephen Smith is most impressive, as a lithe and energetic Edmondo. Dominica Matthews's rich contralto is a luxury in the Madrigal Singer's brief appearance, as is tenor Andrew Brunsdon's turn as the Lamplighter. Graeme Macfarlane, master of the effete character role, is ideal in his cameo as Manon's fussy Dancing Master. The chorus is in fine form, with the women especially revelling in the campy possibilities of their roles as French prostitutes. Conductor Alexander Polianichko leads a sensuous reading of Puccini's score, gaining in splendour as the evening progresses. The gorgeous Intermezzo between Acts Three and Four is vividly realised, but was rather spoilt on opening night by the bangs and crashes emanating from behind the curtain as the set was changed. Director Gale Edwards' production is just the right kind of traditional, an intelligent, unfussy piece of storytelling, with occasional flourishes of telling unconventionality. Peter J. Davison's sets move from sumptuous realism to slightly more abstract design, with the desert of the final act represented by what is essentially a stripped version of the first act's village scene: a telling reminder of the terrible changes time has wrought since that first meeting. Roger Kirk's extravagant costumes are as striking in their depiction of shabby decay as in the powdered resplendence of Act Two, and Nigel Levings' lighting is skilfully evocative, especially the half darkness of the desert scene. Puccini's Manon Lescaut isn't flawless, but it was his first major success, and with good reason. Just as Des Grieux, entranced by her beauty, ecstatically forgives Manon's rather serious failings, so the fleeting faults of Puccini's opera are easily overwhelmed by its vitality, its varied palette and the sublime dignity of its conclusion. Manon might not be little or lovable like some of the composer's later heroines, but she's grand, passionate, beautiful and complex, and the fascination she exercises - as Puccini well knew - is timeless.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Fidelio, Conservatorium Theatre - Brisbane, July 12, 2009

Opera Queensland presents
Fidelio
by Ludwig van Beethoven
Director/Designer Marthinus Basson
Conductor Graham Abbott
Venue: Conservatorium Theatre, South Bank

Written by Jason Whittaker

Sunday, 12 July 2009

Fidelio is a dark, dour work. We are drawn into the murky shadows, squinting almost to make out the politically persecuted left to rot in their underground hell. Florestan is on death row; his executioner, prison governor Don Pizarro, holds a vengeful grudge against the man for exposing his crimes. But Florestan’s wife Lenore refuses to give up hope. She disguises herself as a male prison guard; as Fidelio she ventures into the darkness to free her beloved and liberate the prisoners. When revolution comes, it is glorious. The darkness subsides for a joyful chorus of powerfully strong voice and heart. Ludwig van Beethoven was inspired by the feeling of revolution in France in the late 1700s. He gives us a timeless story of heroism against persecution; undying love driving social liberation. It started life as a three-act opera in 1805, but would be refined to two acts over a difficult development. Such a trial was his first opera, indeed, the German maestro never wrote another. It remains a challenging work for performers and audiences alike. The lyrical litheness demanded of the German libretto is only matched by Beethoven’s painstaking score. To the audience it can produce a wall of sound; competing motivations delicately interwoven. The narrative exposition and darkness in tone of the first act particularly can be tough going for the uninitiated. But this production is a contemporarily literate work – literally, with three-dimensional letters strewn across the stage spelling out (in English) the feelings of the protagonists. LOVE becomes HOME. RAGE becomes COURAGE. OPRESSION turns to LIBERATION. Opera Queensland has imported the design and direction of South African Marthinus Basson, who on the limited canvass of the Conservatorium Theatre paints a simple but affective retelling. It is much less grand than the local company’s previous production of La Traviata at the Lyric Theatre, and unashamedly modern (the mixed themes in the costuming, for no apparent reason, does jar), but the concert-style staging allows some world-class performers to shine. German-born Anke Höppner obviously wraps her tongue around the Deutsch, and her commanding soprano chords convey the heartbreak and resilience of the opera’s namesake. She is on stage for almost the entire performance, restrained by the buttoned-up prison garb and cropped hair but Lenore’s desperation and determination is palpable. With Spaniard Rafael Soler struck down by winter sickness, local tenor Bradley Daley didn’t let down the opening night crowd with a faultless performance as Florestan. He opens the second act with two wonderful arias: Gott! Welch Dunkel Hier (God! What Darkness Here) and In Des Lebens Frühlingstagen (In The Spring Of Life). Opera Australia veterans Barry Ryan and Richard Anderson make their Queensland debuts as the villainous Don Pizarro and his prison warden Rocco, respectively. As Rocco’s daughter Marzelline, who unfortunately (but comically) falls for the disguised Lenore, Sarah Crane is a treat, while long-time Opera Queensland bass Peter Axford has suitable gravitas as the King’s Minister. The men of the Opera Queensland chorus relish the rousing freedom ode Oh Welche Lust (Oh What A Joy), which along with the finale is a spine-tingling highlight. The Queensland Orchestra (under Graham Abbott’s baton) sounds magnificent in the symphony-made space of the Conservatorium, in a production that doesn’t thrill like other operas but certainly draws you in with an inspired new design and rich musical experience.

Aida - Sydney Opera House - July 9, 2009

Aida

Tamara Wilson in Graeme Murphy's production of Aida.
Photo: Tamara Dean

Reviewed by Peter McCallum
July 9, 2009

Opera Australia

Opera House, July 7

PRODUCTIONS of Aida risk falling into a colossal self-parody. Graeme Murphy's deft new creation sidesteps this with grace and humour, reinforcing Verdi's singular musical and dramatic structure rather than capriciously undermining it.

Roger Kirk's design, based on a concept of Murphy's and beautifully lit by Damien Cooper, is a simple sloping stage. In front are two moving strips on which the characters walk without moving their legs, as though cut out of an ancient frieze. Nowhere is this exploited with more charm and impact than in the triumphal march of Act 2 which, sans elephants, is a two-dimensional, subtly animated parade of characters doomed eternally, as in Egyptian art, to stand in profile with elbows crooked.

At the very front, the Nile is a slim lap pool in which monarchs parade, holy people wash and naked lovers frolic. The whole is animated by a vocabulary of Egyptian images, hieroglyphs, eagles, sphinxes and other totems, which are projected, flown in and, most importantly, danced with gloriously imaginative choreography (an apparent collaboration between Murphy and Janet Vernon).

At the end of Act 1 dancers with mythical wings enact the priestess's melismatic lines (evocatively sung by Amy Wilkinson), punctuated between verses by a dazzlingly lit, smooth-toned male chorus so that myth, drama, music and dance reinforce each other in structure, comeliness and significance.

With the subtlety that increasingly characterised his late operas, Verdi introduces the character of Aida in a trio that establishes the dramatic and musical tensions of the principal characters, rather than in a set-piece aria, but that did not prevent Tamara Wilson's voice from asserting its distinctiveness and strength from the start. Dongwon Shin as Radames took a little longer to establish a vocal presence but by Act 3 had overcome an unsettled opening to project with firm persuasive expressiveness.

Similarly, Milijana Nikolic was best in her Act 3 tour-de-force of tragic power, while earlier her vibrato had crazed the surface of the sound as though not quite warmed up.

Jud Arthur was strong and implacable as Ramfis the High Priest, and David Parkin showed there is life after Operatunity with a solid performance as Amneris's father. Michael Lewis sang Amonasro, the fierce Ethiopian king, with flashing eyes, floating hair and focused intensity.

With a strong chorus, large forces, onstage trumpets and plenty of straightforwardly appealing tunes, it is difficult for the score not to have moments of splendour, although conductor Richard Armstrong tended not to highlight or energise textural changes to bring out Verdi's carefully crafted contrast.

Aida - Sydney Opera House - 7 July 2009

A successful if not triumphant Aida by Sarah Noble

Verdi: Aida Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 7 July 2009

Verdi's Aida is an opera which leads a double life. At one (lucrative) level, it's a crowd pleaser par excellence, a favourite choice for arena spectaculars and a boon to directors who relish the chance to put an elephant or two on stage. Beyond the spectacle, however, Aida is also a perceptive examination of personal relationships ruptured by politics: the kind of opera of which Verdi, especially in his late career, was a master. Opera Australia's new production of Aida highlights this dual nature. Graeme Murphy's staging (realised in sets and costumes by Roger Kirk) presents three dimensional lives against a two dimensional background, an Egypt represented by massive cut-outs and an all-pervasive black/white/gold colour scheme. This bold aesthetic is appealing, but in the first two acts especially, Murphy's deliberate artificiality sometimes bears too close a resemblance to the clumsy décor of an amateur production, thus diffusing the impact of its stylisation. A change comes in the second half, however, as constant movement and fanciful flats give way to a far more focused vision. From cluttered beginnings, a seriously striking Aida now takes shape, culminating in a final act whose visual impact at last matches the deep, dark intensity of its musical and dramatic climax. Musically, the performance follows a similar trajectory. Sir Richard Armstrong's leadership of the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra is robust throughout but troubled initially by balance and tempo issues. As Murphy's staging begins to glow, however, so too does the orchestral sound, which is eventually as awash with gold as the stage. The chorus is switched on from the beginning, a vibrant vocal and visual presence.

Among the four principal singers, only two start as they mean to continue. From her first note to her last, Tamara Wilson's Aida displays a voice of distinctive beauty and apparently effortless power, warm and evenly produced throughout her considerable range. While not a natural actress, she is a sincere and sympathetic heroine. As her father, Amonasro, Michael Lewis is likewise excellent from his first appearance, his commanding voice and presence carrying all the hallmarks of a first rate Verdi baritone. Dongwon Shin copes well with Radames' demanding "Celeste Aida," but not until his third act assignation with Aida does the thrilling power of his voice properly reveal itself. His muscular tenor blends effectively with Wilson's tender soprano in their shimmering final duet. Milijana Nikolic, as a feline Amneris, also takes time to warm up, but her earthy contralto flares up in the final act with a blistering depiction of the princess's inner torment. Bass David Parkin, who won the ABC TV show Operatunity Oz in 2006, makes his official company début as an imposing King of Egypt, overcoming initial nerves to prove himself once again a basso profundo of serious promise. Jud Arthur brings his characteristic vocal authority to Ramfis, despite occasional throat trouble on opening night. Amy Wilkinson sings well from offstage as the Priestess, although there's not much of the celestial about her voice. Also noteworthy are the virtuosic performances by the company of dancers engaged for this production. Murphy is, after all, first and foremost a choreographer, and dance not surprisingly plays a prominent part in his staging, to mostly successful and occasionally revelatory effect. Aida is a double edged sword, so it's fitting that this production offers such a collection of dualities, intentional and otherwise. Had it remained at the level of its first two acts, this would be a troubled Aida at best, musical accomplishments notwithstanding. But the marked improvement in the final acts of every aspect of the performance is enough to make it a success, albeit a qualified one. If the first half can be raised to the dynamic level of the second, it might even become a triumph.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica