I Capuleti - SOH - 13/8/09

I Capuleti E I Montecchi

Reviewed by Peter McCallum
August 13, 2009

ACCORDING to Groves Dictionary, Franz Liszt found Bellini's I Capuleti e i Montecchi ''intolerably old-fashioned". Those who booed at the end of Act 1 of Orpha Phelan's modernised production probably wished it were more so.

Yet Phelan captures more of the original context than they may have realised. Though he was a moderniser in his way, Bellini fell foul of the shift towards realism in theatre and a more symphonic conception in music. Phelan juxtaposes the gentle expressiveness of Bellini's lines with grim, dehumanised realism of modern sectarian violence: a young boy (Alexander Keighley) is taught to shoot an enemy woman before he is held hostage, a knife at his throat.

The assertive disconnection between music and drama thus embodies the love-and-hate dichotomy at the heart of the Romeo and Juliet story.

We have grown to expect that the hate will be portrayed by little more than costumed sword-play, and Phelan's confronting approach was bound to ruffle feathers. For me, the incongruity of setting added an effective edge in places while in others, such as the nightmare sequence in which Giulietta is thrown around like rag doll, the gesture, though ingenious, missed its mark.

The great musical glories were the duets between Emma Matthews (Giulietta) and Catherine Carby (in the "breeches" role of Romeo). Carby combined wonderfully flexible vocal expressiveness with a haughty stage swagger so that her pluck, statuesque carriage and fragility amid the realism of guns and knives created a genuine frisson. Matthews sang with superbly languorous bell canto colour and shape, matching Carby's sound and the lyrical tenor of Henry Choo (who took over the part of Tebaldo at short notice) with equal comeliness. Choo's smooth sound and instinct for melodic shape is natural for this style, and his stage movement was impressive for a last-minute substitution.

Conductor Richard Bonynge had brought the woodwind and horns to the front and elevated the orchestra to bring the sound out of the pit, so that it had brightness and presence, and the players were able to concentrate on focused ensemble discipline and vigour. Stephen Bennett was strong and incisive as Capellio.

Leslie Travers's menacing design was basically a parquet floor progressively torn up by strife. Liszt, in any event, would have loved the singing.

Photos: Branco Gaica

Fidelio, SOH, 10 Aug 2009

OPERA: Beethoven’s Fidelio
BY: Opera Australia
WHERE: Opera House
WHEN: Until August 29

With its openness, warm, clear lighting and Napoleonic garb, Michael Hampe’s production of Fidelio (first staged by Opera Australia in 1992) celebrates fundamental tenets of the Age of Enlightenment: righteous determination rewarded and triumph over political persecution.

Leonore’s unwavering determination to rescue her imprisoned husband, and the spirit of heroism found in Beethoven’s only opera, has been likened to his dogged will to continue composing even after his hearing had deteriorated, making this morality tale all the more inspiring.

Elizabeth Stannard must be praised for her determination, opening Opera Australia’s 2009 revival as Leonore and continuing in performances as first Lisa Gasteen and then Nicole Youl were forced to withdraw (the latter temporarily) due to injury and illness respectively.

Stannard may not have quite the depth of tone one hopes to hear in the title role, nor was her stagecraft entirely fluid, but her rich mezzo was admirable for its warmth and passion throughout.

Her intensity crystallised during the great second-act duet that sees Leonore finally reunited with her beloved Florestan.

Julian Gavin offered the evening’s finest singing and dramatic performance at the beginning of Act Two, though his full, robust tenor certainly doesn’t give the impression of an inmate chained to a dungeon wall, weakened by starvation and lack of sunlight.

Peter Coleman-Wright as Don Pizarro embodied cruelty, corruption and conspiracy, singing with a full-bodied, dark tone well suited to the cloaked villain.

In Marzelline, ill-fated enough to fall in love with Leonore disguised as a man, soprano Lorina Gore embraces her ideal role, both vocally (light and supple) and dramatically. Her playful scenes rejecting the advances of Jaquino are a delight, among the most enjoyable in this production.

Warwick Fyfe’s Don Fernando concludes the opera with great pomp and composure.

Particularly memorable in John Gunter’s beautifully-balanced design is the moving scene in which the chorus of male prisoners is permitted to step into the sunlight after months and years wasting away in cold, dark cells. Here, musically, the strings are luminous and the voices express wonderment and yearning in perfect harmony.

Though the chorus provided superb support throughout, the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra was often sloppy under conductor Jonathan Darlington, with a lack of refinement in strings and a well controlled but lacklustre brass sound.

The cast’s strength was in duet and in key solo moments of reflection, but together in trios, quartets and ensemble sections the balance was almost always poorly judged.

Poppea - SOH - Aug 8th, 2009

Sydney Opera House Adventures presents the Vienna Schauspielhaus production of Poppea Director Barrie Kosky Sung in German with English surtitles Venue: Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House Dates: 6 - 16 August 2009 Duration: 2 hours including one 20 minute interval Written by Rebecca Whitton

Saturday, 08 August 2009

Auteur theatre director Barrie Kosky has taken The Coronation of Poppea, an early Baroque opera by Monteverdi about the decadence of Nero’s Rome, merged it with songs by Cole Porter from the equally decadent Jazz Age, to create a unique, contemporary music theatre piece that is rich with visceral spectacle, tragedy and humour. Monteverdi’s plot teems with lust, jealously, ambition, sex, violence and death – perfect material for Kosky who is at his best when dealing with extravagant and grandiose themes. The ambitious harlot, Poppea wants to usurp Ottavia’s role as Nero’s queen to become it herself. Nero (Kyrre Kvam) is happy to oblige. His philosopher, Seneca, advises against it and famously meets his death as a result, and Otavia (Beatrice Frey) is exiled, consigned to sailing the seas for the rest of her life. Kosky’s mix of explicit sex and violence affects the subconscious as much, or more than the intellect. The power of Poppea is not so much emotional, but visceral. Kosky’s debauched savagery has a cathartic effect. The music of Cole Porter, interspersed between Monteverdi, works remarkably well. Kosky says that, to him, Monteverdi and Porter share a similar melancholy. He uses the Porter songs to fill a number of roles and cleverly places them so that they comment on the action. Sometimes they alleviate the tension with the good-humoured razzle dazzle of a grotesque cabaret routine and at others they pepper the scenes with irony. This production shows the virtuosity of Kosky’s unique style – particularly his mastery and knowledge of music. It also shows his consummate skill as a director who has a finely honed ability to keep the audience working. Kosky crafts the tone and pace of each scene so that they are like a series of challenges and treats. There are moments of awe at his spectacular imagery (often highlighted by clever spot lighting and shadow effects, designed by Michael Zerz). There is great relief when moments of beauty arrive, very often following carnality and savagery. Instead of opera singers, Kosky has assembled actor singers for his cast. All of them are fine voiced, strong performers, particularly the beautiful silky tenor of Martin Niedermair, playing Ottone. Melita Jurisic, prowling the stage in a diaphanous, beaded flapper gown, and singing in a low, captivating growl, is perfectly lascivious, yet strangely distant as Poppea. Barbara Spitz infuses jaded glamour in the ever present and troublesome God of Love, Amor, playing her like a well-fed brothel madam. Beatrice Frey’s natural comic gifts sometimes overshadowed the tragedy of Ottavia’s lot, but given the style of this production shifts between tragedy and farce, it hardly mattered. Ruth Brauer-Kvam’s Drusilla (the only redeeming character of the evening) gave a dynamic performance, and the most striking of the production. Whether it is a scene of love, death or threat, Nero remains the sociopath for which he is historically famous. His sado masochistic lovemaking with Poppea is chilling and Seneca’s (Florian Carove) enforced suicide in the bathtub is excruciating, carnal, bloody and hideously compelling. Poppea is challenging and theatrically fascinating. It is not deeply affecting like Kosky’s 2008 STC production of Euripides’ Women of Troy (there are images, songs and speeches from that production that are indelibly etched on my memory). But it is an entirely different genre and it is perhaps unfair to compare them. This, after all, is closer to German cabaret than it is a play. Poppea is unsettling, outrageous, playful and satiric as much as it is tragic or epic. Should you see it? Yes, if you are up for it and are prepared to give yourself over to Kosky’s genius. But if your taste runs more to a well made play or a respectable opera, stay well away. Pictured above - Melita Jurisic