Otello, Vic Arts Centre, 21 Nov 2008

Opera Australia presents Otello Giuseppe Verdi Venue: the Arts Centre Written by Olympia Bowman-Derrick

Friday, 21 November 2008 10:00

Shakespeare’s Othello – the classic tragedy of deceit, revenge, love, and jealousy... in essence, all the makings for the spectacle and drama that is opera. Giuseppe Verdi’s Otello, on a libretto by Arrigo Boito after Shakespeare, charts the downfall of its hero (Franco Farina), the Moorish general and governor of Cyprus, as he is manipulated by Iago (Jonathan Summers) and consumed by jealousy and distrust for his wife, Desdemona (Kate Ladner). Verdi’s Shakespeare adaptations are notable for the way in which vocal drama assumes importance over vocal technique and display. The composition of Otello is exquisite in the subtlety and grace of its melodies, creating a fluid form which adapts to the expressive needs of the narrative. Opera Australia’s production of Otello was first produced in 2003 under the direction of Harry Kupfer, and revived by Cathy Dadd for this season. The most striking and prominent aspect of this production is the set, designed by Hans Schavernoch. An imposing black and red staircase dominates the stage, cleverly creating a sense of depth which allows for simultaneous action on different levels of the stage between different characters. However, the lack of practicality provided by the design was very obvious, with the performers taking care not to trip and tumble into the orchestra pit! Unfortunately, the caution required by the performers in navigating the set seemed to be carried over into their dramatic portrayals. Farina, Summers, and Ladner brought the expressive beauty of Verdi’s music to life, but often lost the drama of the action. In particular, the murder and suicide at the climax verged on comedy rather than tragedy – the strangling scene was almost cartoonish. Despite all this, there were a few precious moments in which Verdi’s ideal of the inseparable nature of music and drama were realised. The love duet between Farina and Ladner in the first act was charming, Summers interpretation of the ‘Credo’, in which Iago revels in his evil, an audience favourite, and Ladner’s performance and interpretation of the ‘Willow Song’ poignant in its tender lightness of touch and simplicity. However, the highlight of the performance were the large chorus numbers by the Opera Australia Chorus under the direction of Michael Black. The energy and spirit with which the chorus burst onto the stage as the curtains opened was tangible, with members of the chorus quite literally flinging themselves onto the set as they sung of the ferocity of the storm which opens the opera. Pity that staircase prevented a little bit more of that fearlessness.

Billy Budd, SOH, Sept 26, 2008

Murray Black | September 26, 2008

Billy Budd by Benjamin Britten. Opera Australia. Conductor: Richard Hickox. Director: Neil Armfield. Sydney Opera House, September24. Tickets: $99-$240. Bookings: (02) 9318 8200. Until October 16.

TEN years after its premiere, director Neil Armfield's production of Benjamin Britten's opera Billy Budd remains fresh and compelling. Dominated by a movable rectangular platform that rises, falls and circles an otherwise sparse stage, its great virtue is that nothing is allowed to distract from the moral drama that unfolds.

At this production's core are three magnificent performances. Although Peter Coleman-Wright's singing in the original production had greater richness of tone and complexity of colour, fellow baritone Teddy Tahu Rhodes is still a fine Billy Budd. Singing with a clear, focused tone and impressive agility, his firm, youthful-sounding voice is well suited to his character's exuberant good nature. Rhodes's characterisation is a winning mix of virile magnetism, artless simplicity and, ultimately, moral strength. And, yes, his shirt does come off for a while during the first act.

Tenor Philip Langridge's Aschenbach in Opera Australia's 2005 production of Britten's Death in Venice was extraordinary. Here, as Captain Vere, he is almost as good. Despite showing occasional signs of strain in his top register, Langridge's sinuous line, superb diction and sensitive phrasing illuminate Vere's inner torment at the excruciating moral dilemma he faces. He wants to save Billy from the gallows but his sense of duty cannot allow it. The pain and grief at what he is forced to do are seared into Langridge's vocal timbre.

As the black-hearted Claggart, bass-baritone John Wegner almost steals the show. It is a commanding performance of imposing malevolence and slow-burning intensity. He sings with stamina and strength, investing his voice with a burnished dark-hued tone. Wegner also captures his character's seething heart of darkness. Homoerotism is acknowledged without being overdone and twisted self-loathing adds complexity to a convincing portrait of evil.

The three leads receive able support from the rest of the all-male cast. The male chorus also has a prominent role in this opera. Sustaining good balance and blend throughout, they're equally impressive in hushed, sotto voce passages and full-voiced, fortissimo outbursts.

Apart from the occasional blemish, the orchestra responds to Richard Hickox's inspired direction with polish and refinement.

OA has been criticised recently for its musical standards and production qualities. There can be no more eloquent rebuttal than this outstanding production.

Billy Budd, SOH, Sept 24, 2008

Opera Australia at its very best by Sarah Noble

Britten: Billy Budd Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 24 September 2008

Not every great composer has been lucky enough to find a librettist of equal inspiration. Benjamin Britten, however, was blessed with several superb librettists, whose creations not only match the excellence of his music, but stand on their own as works of real literary merit. The libretto for Billy Budd is a prime example. Adapted from Herman Melville's unfinished novella by novelist E.M. Forster and longtime Britten collaborator Eric Crozier, it is at once readily intelligible and powerfully poetic. Britten's extraordinary score could ask for no better partner. The story opens upon the ageing Captain Edward Fairfax "Starry" Vere, recalling the year 1797, when he commanded the Indomitable. Haunted by remorse, he remembers the young Billy Budd, a talented and beautiful sailor with a heart of gold, pressed into the ship's service. The opera continues as Vere's flashback. Billy is innocent, kind and fiercely loyal; but that very goodness - and his remarkable beauty - earn him the obsessive hatred of the despotic master-at-arms, John Claggart, who plots to destroy him with a false charge of treason. The plot succeeds, but, bewildered by his interrogation, Billy strikes Claggart and kills him. Vere has no choice but to call a court martial, knowing that Billy will be sentenced to death but unable to budge from his own strict code of ethics. He is stricken with guilt. But Billy comes to accept his fate and with his last words, blesses his beloved Captain. The opera ends with the elderly Vere once more, still tormented by his memories, but clinging to that final blessing for his own redemption. Richard Hickox, Opera Australia's music director and an internationally acclaimed Britten specialist, leads a sweeping, richly-textured performance of this haunting score. He conveys the grandeur of its climaxes without lapsing into melodrama, and draws out its contrasting orchestral textures with warmth and clarity. Especially striking are the undulating strings, conjuring up both the physical ocean and all the psychological turmoil for which it stands. Kiwi baritone Teddy Tahu Rhodes is an ideal Billy, possessing all the vocal prowess and all the physical beauty the role requires. Despite his imposing physical presence, he captures beautifully the side of Billy which is still essentially an innocent child. He throws himself fearlessly into both the physicality and the emotional requirements of the role, and his smooth, sonorous singing is hugely expressive. Billy's final monologue, sung as he waits, in chains, to be executed, is devastating.

The opera may be titled Billy Budd, but ultimately it is Captain Vere, and not Billy, who is its centre. Vere's moral crisis is the crux of the story, and it is his tormented recollections which frame the opera, as prologue and epilogue. English tenor Philip Langridge is arguably the finest Britten tenor of his generation and he is stunning in this vital role. Age has brought to his voice an ideal patina of craggy maturity, mingled still with a freshness of tone which makes Langridge equally convincing as both and old man and as his younger self. He doesn't so much play the role as inhabit it completely, giving a performance of rare poignancy - truly a privilege to behold. John Wegner is outstanding as the terrifying Claggart, his tone alternately growling and caressing and his whole being an embodiment of diabolical malice. In a sea of ruddy sailors' faces, Claggart's face is an ghostly shade of white - he radiates unnatural evil before he has even sung a note. His credo (reminiscent of Iago's in Verdi's Otello) in which he outlines his hatred of Billy and its attendant schemes for his downfall, is a bloodcurdling tour de force. The sterling supporting cast is a showcase of some of the country's finest male singers, including particularly strong performances by Barry Ryan and Andrew Collis as Mr Redburn and Mr Flint, and Luke Gabbedy as the larrikin Donald. Andrew Goodwin is touching as the young Novice, while Kanen Breen's thin, reedy tenor is just right for the snivelling Squeak. The remainder of the cast is too numerous to list in its entirety, but all members are worthy of praise. The men's chorus is in superlative form, singing with unity and shimmering voice. Neil Armfield's excellent direction draws out not just the horror and suffering of this story, but also its humour and beauty. He explores all the ambiguous depths and destructive power of good and evil without forcing any single resolution upon their eternal struggle. Brian Thomson's set is stark, industrial and abstract - a single platform, surrounded by a few pieces of scaffolding, rises, falls and rotates to represent every part of the ship. Set against a vast blackness, it evokes not so much the detail of life at sea as the psychology of it, of a profound sense of isolation. Nigel Levings' lighting enhances the eerie mood and his representation of Billy's execution is a particular stroke of genius. Armfield's Billy Budd has been called one of Opera Australia's finest: it's a reputation richly deserved. Brought to life by such a convincing, talented creative team, it is nothing short of phenomenal.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Pearlfishers - OA - Sept 8, 2008

The Pearlfishers

Peter McCallum, reviewer
September 8, 2008

Ann-Magret Pettersson's production is an opera about orientalism and Western representations of the East.

Of golden voice... Henry Choo as Nadir.
Photo: Brendan Esposito

BIZET probably saw his opera The Pearl Fishers as a story in the tradition of Bellini's Norma: a love triangle about a woman, Leila, torn between sacred vows and profane love, and two men united in loyalty but divided by jealousy.

Placing it in Ceylon (originally it was Mexico) provides the usual excuse for exotic dance and colour, as is amply exploited in this revival. It is also an opportunity for the passions to run more freely than in real life.

Ann-Magret Pettersson's 2000 production transforms the work into an opera about orientalism and Western representations of the East, bringing the tacet colonial assumptions of Bizet and his librettists, Michel Cormon and Eugene Carre, to the fore.

Bizet's head fisherman and village leader, Zurga, becomes a French colonial governor and the whole story is set as a distant memory after he has returned to Paris. This gives a piquant and subtle twist to Bizet's musical representation of Leila, the famous hymn-like tune first heard in the great duet Au Fond Du Temple Saint.

With its celestial harp and flute introduction, it might have originally evoked the sanctity of an Ave Maria for Bizet's listeners; in this production it places her firmly on the Parisian side of the orientalist divide.

It also allows the design team (John Conklin, Clare Mitchell and Nigel Levings) to get away with a cardboard cutout view of Ceylon. In the post-9/11 world, orientalist analysis is under challenge, as this production might also be, although it is a thought-provoking way of setting a piece whose music still shines.

The cast of this revival oscillates between the stellar and the stalwart. Looking regally statuesque, Leanne Kenneally, as Leila, began with a veiled sound, her voice finding attractive definition in act two and powerful expressive intensity in the last act, where she was fiercely coloured with being stentorian.

Henry Choo sang Nadir with golden smoothness of voice. His dramatic persona is amiable, such that one would be inclined to put his importunate breaching of the temple in act two down to stupidity rather than passion.

Michael Lewis sang Zurga, bringing the judgment of experience to create fine balance in the great scene with Nadir of act one, as did Shane Lowrencev, the pious priest, Nourabad, who calls for blood in act two.

Bizet's opening was stilted but the Opera Australia chorus is magnificent in moments such as the closing of act one. The conductor, Emmanuel Joel-Hornak, exhorted passion from the pit, sometimes at the expense of precise co-ordination.

Butterfly, Oz Opera, Aug 15, 2008

Butterfly takes to the road by Sarah Noble

Puccini: Madama Butterfly Oz Opera Riverside Theatre Parramatta 15 August 2008

Oz Opera is the touring arm of Opera Australia. Every year it visits metropolitan, regional and remote communities throughout Australia, armed with a portable production, a chamber orchestra and a cast of hardy young singers. Principal roles are double cast and sung in rotation - those not taking principal role on a given evening take smaller parts or make up the minimal chorus. In communities where opera is rarely seen, Oz Opera productions are an invaluable opportunity for novitiates and buffs alike to share in the talents of our national company. They can also function as a training ground for rising young artists. This year Oz Opera is presenting Puccini's Madama Butterfly, in a production by John Bell, of Bell Shakespeare fame. Bell's simple and elegant production has updated the action very slightly, moving it from the nineteenth century to the early twentieth, to Nagasaki in the 1940s. Pinkerton wears khaki instead of the usual blue, and, like the tourist that he is, takes incessant photos of Butterfly's attendants. The new setting aids in bringing Butterfly's situation a little closer to our own lives. Abandoned, but still adoring, she does her very best to embody the American Wife she believes herself to be: she dresses like an American girl, and plasters her paper walls with clippings of Superman, the Andrews Sisters and other pop culture icons. Sets and costumes were designed by the late Jennie Tate (to whom this production is dedicated) and realised Julie Lynch. Tate's imaginative colour sense and eye for beauty are everywhere apparent, as is her ingenuity: the single, uncluttered set has been built for easy portability, but there is nothing makeshift about it. Bell's sensitive staging makes excellent use of the limited space; the final scene, Butterfly's suicide, is a particularly striking coup de théâtre. On the evening I attended, Butterfly and Pinkerton were sung by Jane Parkin and David Corcoran, with their alternates (Elisa Wilson and Jason Wasley) forming part of the six person chorus. Parkin was a vivid Cio Cio San, tackling the role's fearsome vocal demands with grace and distinctive tone. Only in its upper register did her voice show signs of misbehaviour, although even this was not a consistent problem; she rose to the climaxes of "Un bel di" and "Tu, tu, piccolo iddio!" with devastating power. Butterfly is too often dismissed as a victimised shrinking violet, but her dialogue (especially in the middle part of the opera) reveals a far more spirited and complex individual. Parkin's bright characterisation did a fine job of exploring these aspects alongside the character's obvious pathos, and even earned a laugh or two in her confrontation with the strutting Yamadori. As her feckless husband, David Corcoran was surprisingly sympathetic - no mean feat in one of opera's easiest-to-hate roles. Though thoughtless without a doubt, he was no brute; both his passing infatuation with Butterfly and his subsequent horror at her fate were brought off with convincing emotion. Singing with extraordinary beauty of tone and impressive musicality, Corcoran proved he is definitely One To Watch: it's no surprise he's been nabbed for Opera Australia's Young Artist programme next year. The remainder of the cast provide mostly strong support. Ian Cousins brings experience and steady voice to Sharpless. Brendon Wickham enjoys the comic mugging of Goro, although his performance is marred by choppy phrasing and wayward pitch. Victoria Lambourn's expressive mezzo makes much of Suzuki, and she's especially touching in the final scene, while Karen van Spall is appealingly dignified as Kate Pinkerton. Eddie Muliamaseali'i makes a spectacular appearance as the Bonze; Rohan Thatcher is suitably peacockish as the rich Yamadori. A touring production of this nature requires a few significant adjustments. With most of the theatres it visits unequipped to provide English surtitles, Oz Opera productions are performed in translation to ensure their intelligibility. While it's a pity to lose the particular piquancy of the Italian text, Peter Hutchinson's translation is faithful, witty and highly singable, and coupled with the sterling diction of the singers, does an excellent job of recreating the spirit of its original. In addition, since touring with a full orchestra would be impossible, Oz Opera's Madama Butterfly is performed by a 12 piece orchestra, in a re-orchestration by Lara Taylor. Such a reduction necessarily robs the score of much of its texture and prismatic sonority, but once the ear has adjusted, it does bring to it a degree of intimacy which is not without its charms. Christopher van Tuinen does an admirable job of leading this small-scale Butterfly, particularly in at its dynamic extremes, where he draws an intensity from the orchestra which belies its size. Oz Opera might sometimes be viewed, by citydwellers especially, as Opera Australia's "country cousin", but the strong creative team and high musical standards of this production are abundant proof that it is nothing of the sort. It's only a pity that, in New South Wales at least, this production couldn't be seen closer to the capital. Those unwilling to trek to Parramatta for Puccini have missed out on a treat.

Text © Sarah Noble

Lucia, Aug 3, 2008

Opera Australia presents Lucia di Lammermoor Donizetti Venue: Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House Dates/Times: Evenings @ 7.30pm – July 30; August 5, 12, 16, 19, 22 & 27 Matinees: 1.00pm, August 2, 9 & 30 Written by Alexandra Coghlan

Sunday, 03 August 2008 23:41

Once you accept that Doninzetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor is essentially Brigadoon with an Italian accent (and perhaps just a hint more death...) and stop wanting or wishing it to be grand opera in the Verdi mode, then everything suddenly falls into place. With more tartan than Edinburgh on Burns Night, britches and bustles galore and a hefty dollop of swashbuckling, John Copley’s 1980 production (revived by Luise Napier), today feels as dramatically anachronistic as it is historically faithful. Yet in many ways this aged pantomime dame of a production is the perfect foil to Donizetti’s highland romp, playing its fairly extraordinary convolutions of plot and emotion with the straight-faced affection that they deserve, and making more sense of this celebration of operatic extravagance than any pared-down contemporary rendering. Henry Bardon’s set was a miracle of heavy-duty construction, with the wooded glades, cavernous vaulted interiors and secret grottos of Scott’s gothicke novel brought lovingly (if somewhat creakingly) to life, and was exploited to its full potential in the intelligent movement direction. At the close of each act the curtain would fall and rise again to reveal a dramatic tableau. Softly lit and beautifully constructed, each image was a three dimensional Dutch painting of surprising charm and life. Musically Donizetti’s Lucia poses some serious challenges, and not all of them technical. Even with the glorious richness of tone and dramatic commitment supplied by Jose Carbo (as Lucia’s brother Enrico) and Eric Cutler (as Lucia’s lover, Edgardo), it is very hard to take a vengeance duet seriously when the music itself lilts along in a brisk 4/4 like a Neapolitan folk song. After the ominous horn calls with which the opera opens there is really very little music in the minor key, which – in an opera that treats subjects of murder and madness – requires disbelief being not so much suspended as ushered out on indefinite leave. While the frenetic major key meanderings of the mad scene add a certain painful poignancy to the action, elsewhere the drama struggles to compensate for the atmospheric deficiency of the music. Emma Matthews, making her debut in the opera’s title role, was in characteristically silver-voiced form, and her performance only grew in sparkle and assurance as the evening progressed, culminating in a top Eb so exact that it was in danger of devaluing the sheer stamina involved. Cosmetic though it may be, it was such a delight, vocally as much as physically, to have a young and vivacious Lucia – a character whose dramas and histrionics are so much those of youth. With Richard Bonynge as conductor, the shadow of Dame Joan herself was always going to loom over proceedings. The lightness and energy of Matthews herself however ensured that comparisons never obtruded into the immediate life of this latest operatic incarnation. While the central trio of Matthews, Carbo and Cutler formed as strong a vocal line-up as has yet been fielded by Opera Australia this season, there were disappointments in the supporting cast, including a rather woolly Alisa from Rosemary Gunn, and Richard Anderson's somewhat stiff Raimondo. It was uncertain what exactly went wrong with the first chorus entry, but the precarious listing of ensemble that resulted has been something of recurring issue recently – perhaps owing to the inevitably tight rehearsal periods – and detracting from their strong vocal performances. Opera Australia’s Lucia di Lammermoor is a product of its (considerable) age, and as with all things elderly should be treated with affectionate respect and indulgence. Give over to the slower rhythms and quaintly atmospheric charms of this production however and the rewards are considerable, with Matthews and the rest of the young cast bringing a stylish flair to music that, for all its dramatic flaws, still represents some of the best tunes in the opera canon.

Lucia, Aug 1, 2008

Lucia Di Lammermoor

Peter McCallum, reviewer
August 1, 2008

It was all her own and that's refreshing.

BLOODIED (literally, at least in the tomato sauce sense) but unbowed, Emma Matthews rose to the top E flat at the end of the infamous mad scene of Lucia - a note Donizetti never wrote but which no soprano since Sutherland could contemplate omitting - and gave it a colour all of her own.

All the ghost Lucias who haunt the Opera House - Sutherland, obviously, but also Gillian Sullivan and Sumi Jo - were listening, at least vicariously through the ears of listeners who heard them and chalked up their performances for future comparison.

If judged on this note alone, Matthews would take an honourable place among the ghosts. Unlike Jo, Matthews sang substantially the same cadenza in the mad scene as Sutherland (Sutherland's husband, Richard Bonynge, was conducting). However, what was refreshing about Matthews's debut in this role was that she gave musico-dramatic meaning to the scene, so the experience became more than simply listening to the virtuosity and wondering when she would fall off (she didn't). Her combination of colour, lightness and agility was there in abundance right from her Act 1 aria, Regnava nel Silenzio, and it gave her portrayal of this role distinctiveness and freshness.

The return to focus on the dramatic purpose by Matthews and the rest of this strong cast is welcome and would be well served by replacing John Copley's ageing costume pantomime production from 1980 with something new. Too much of it looks and feels like the kind of parody of operatic convention described by Tolstoy in Natasha's debut in War And Peace.

But although the production is creaking, Matthews was far from being a lone point in a dark sky. Eric Cutler, as Edgardo, Lucia's star-crossed lover, was magnificent throughout for the smoothness and polish of his voice. He had power in reserve for the last act, which he delivered without a hint of strain and with impressive dramatic as well as musical stature. Jose Carbo, as Lucia's wicked brother, was equally splendid, with a forceful and focused tone and fiery stage presence boding well for the future.

Richard Anderson sang Raimondo, the compromised priest, with sober warmth, and Kanen Breen was dashingly superficial as Arturo.

Rosemary Gunn was redoubtable as Alisa, and Graeme Macfarlane made a worthy Normanno. The orchestra under Bonynge was under-energised.

It is time to move this work on from the Sutherland glory days or else impose a moratorium while singers and conductors check again what Donizetti actually wrote.

Lucia, July 30 2008

A Lucia to please both eye and ear by Sarah Noble

Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 30 July 2008

Swords, tartan and leg-of-mutton sleeves abound in John Copley's production of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor for Opera Australia. At twenty-eight years of age, it's one of the oldest productions still in repertory, but it's also something of a classic. Michael Stennett's opulent period costumes and Henry Bardon's imposing architectural features set the scene for a night of good, old-fashioned bel canto - short on drama, but with plenty of heart and enough beautiful singing to gladden the most jaded heart. Maestro Richard Bonynge conducts with the steady, expert hand to be expected from a man who might just know this opera better than anyone else on the planet. He leads a light, lyrical performance, sensitive always to the needs of his singers. Bonynge's tendency to play it safe might disappoint some - this is a reading as comfortable as the production, relatively free of drastic dynamic extremes or risky innovation - but his bel canto credentials are beyond reproach. Exciting or otherwise, there's no doubting the authenticity of his approach; and if, after several hundred Lucias, he occasionally seems a little blasé in his approach, that's surely understandable. Soprano Emma Matthews, an established darling of Australian audiences, makes a keenly anticipated début in the title role. She could hardly ask for better conditions: a supportive conductor, a theatre packed with adoring fans and music to which her rare agility and pearly tone are ideally suited. Matthews' is a small Lucia, perfectly formed - what she lacks in sheer volume is amply compensated by exquisite, note-perfect singing. Dramatically, she's yet to make the role her own. She clearly revels in the loony antics of the mad scene, but seems unsure of how to portray Lucia's journey to that climactic scene - thus, by the time her Lucia appears, bloodstained and bedraggled, she's done little more than pout dejectedly. But this is not a production dependent upon theatrical credibility; the considerable vocal success which Matthews scores in the role is enough to carry the show.

Eric Cutler is a remarkably tender and sweet-toned Edgardo, more lover than fighter, despite his sword-brandishing heroics. His bright and beautiful sound blends wonderfully with Matthews' crystalline Lucia in their Act I duet; his "Tombe degli avi miei" is even more impressive, displaying intelligent phrasing, melting legato and a stunningly controlled upper register. José Carbo is similarly excellent as the other man in Lucia's life, her scheming brother Enrico. Carbo's vivid stage presence brings a dash of individuality to this melodramatic role, making him a cruel but charismatic villain. His rich, muscular baritone is consistently thrilling; the duet with Edgardo in the Wolf's Crag scene is particularly electrifying. The principal trio is backed up by a supporting cast of company stalwarts. Rosemary Gunn's Alisa is a stern duenna, sincerely sung if rather threadbare. Richard Anderson sings with solemnity and careful control as Lucia's tutor, Raimondo, while Graeme Macfarlane is a strong Normanno. Most distinctive is Kanen Breen, clear-voiced and blindingly effete as Arturo, Lucia's bridegroom/victim. The Opera Australia chorus is in strong, unified voice. Copley's staging doesn't require them to do much more than stand around looking concerned, but this they do with aplomb; the unintentionally hilarious Highland dancing at Lucia's wedding is wisely left to the professionals. Resplendent frocks, a handsome set, fabulous singing and just enough blood to keep things interesting - it all adds up to a solid, traditional and enjoyable Lucia, unlikely to devastate, but guaranteed to please both eye and ear.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Otello - SOH - July 2008

Otello	Dennis O'Neill
Desdemona	Cheryl Barker
Iago	Jonathan Summers
Cassio	Kanen Breen
Roderigo	Andrew Brunsdon
Lodovico	Shane Lowrencev
Montano	Stephen Bennett
Emilia	Jacqueline Dark

Coronation of Poppea - Victorian Opera - 23 July 2008

Victorian Opera presents The Coronation of Poppea sung in Italian with English surtitles Venue: South Melbourne Town Hall Written by Olympia Bowman-Derrick

Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Monteverdi’s The Coronation of Poppea is a tale of ambition and manipulation intertwined with love and passion – the perfect recipe for drama. Poppea is a fiery, determined woman who uses her sexuality to secure the throne. Director Kate Cherry draws parallels between Poppea and Paris Hilton - Monteverdi seems to have captured the timeless essence of excess mixed with passion and desire for power. The Victorian Opera Company is dedicated to providing greater access to, and educating more Victorians about opera, not only as entertainment but also as an art form. Music director, Richard Gill, possesses a tangible enthusiasm and passion for the operatic repertoire – beginning the performance by emphasising how the performance, in terms of the musical elements, tries to emulate the way in which the work would have first been performed. Musically, the performance was delightful, with the harpsichord immediately evoking the atmosphere of 17th century Europe. Gill’s enthusiasm was evident in the energy and refined skill of the small ensemble. The sinister atmosphere created musically was reflected in Richard Roberts’ clever all black set design. The stark blackness of the design suggested the celebrity mansions of today, while creating a striking contrast with Poppea’s crimson gown. A wall of light-sensitive glass used to conceal and reveal was used very effectively to emphasise deception and manipulation. The striking contrast between the music and set design created a beautiful balance which broke the mould of opera as a museum piece, so often disconnected from our contemporary reality. An interesting aspect of the scoring for this opera is that Nerone, the king of Rome, was originally written for a castrato, as was the character of Ottone, both Poppea and Drusilla’s lover. Surprisingly, David Hansen as Nerone and Daniel Goodwin as Ottone replicate the sound of the castrati (how I do not know!). During the 17th century the practice of writing music for castrati was very popular, as they possessed incredible vocal ability which was unparalleled by a female soprano. To a contemporary audience however, the castrati sound used by the two male leads in this production suggests the characters’ spoilt youth in comparison to Poppea’s (Tiffany Speight) rich warmth of tone which emphasises her experience and maturity. The similarity of tone with contrasting physicality was, at first, slightly disconcerting but ultimately created an interesting pair of lovers with brilliantly delicate harmonies between the two voices. However, the lack of subtly in the relationship between Nerone and Poppea meant that the relationship and the tension building up to the end of the opera, when Poppea is crowned, was also lacking. The image of the lovers in the third act, circling each other but separated by the wall of glass, lost all power after numerous scenes of awkward groping. The performance highlights were found in some of the supporting and minor roles, in particular Jacqueline Porter as Drusilla who created a beautifully complex character with a lovely voice which was both rich and shimmering. Edmund Choo in the minor roles of Liberto and Seneca’s friend was another highlight with a resonant voice and strong stage presence. The Victorian Opera’s production of Monteverdi’s The Coronation of Poppea was a unique performance experience, which from the sound of the applause (some of the loudest and most enthusiastic I have heard in a long time!) was thoroughly enjoyed by the audience. Despite some of its problems, the production created a lovely balance between allowing Monteverdi’s music to be realised in its original form while creating a world strangely recognisable to a contemporary audience.

Otello - July 21, 2008

Otello

Peter McCallum, reviewer
July 21, 2008

A worthy and forceful interpretation of an enduring masterpiece.

Otello

THE opening of Verdi's Otello is as good a lesson as any in how to turn a play into an opera. While Shakespeare eases suggestively into his drama, Verdi plunges straight into the storm, which this fine 2003 production (by Harry Kupfer, revived here by Cathy Dadd) dramatises with the coup de theatre of a chorus descending a staircase.

The staircase, the centrepiece of Hans Schavernoch's design, provides a telling objective correlative (in T.S.Eliot's term) for the tension of the work: people display themselves on it but are always in danger of falling or being pushed.

After deftly demonstrating each of these potential uses, the chorus delivers the great opening numbers with magnificent force. The chorus part in Otello is among Verdi's finest achievements, drawing on a lifetime of experience in using collective choral energy to propel dramatic excitement, and the Opera Australia Chorus here reveals the full depth of its vocal talent and power right from the start.

Cheryl Barker's performance as Desdemona is on the opposite trajectory, growing with commanding dignity from her unassuming but beautiful opening phrase, "my fair warrior" in Act I to powerfully tragic outbursts in Act III. She has the maturity and evenness of range to give the Willow Song in Act IV a subtle mixture of sadness, resignation and courage, right down to the premonitory firm tone on the low C sharps.

As Otello, Dennis O'Neill was in excellent voice, and in those moments of stentorian intensity which Sydney audiences have learnt to admire, the pitch was every bit as firm as the unflinching power as, for example, in the mighty duet with Iago which closes Act II.

As Iago, Jonathan Summers had that bad-liver look of every villain and had the capacity to sour his voice with malice without sacrificing strength. Kanen Breen as Cassio is showing encouraging capacity to move from comedy into stronger roles: he acts well and maintains the energy and lightness of his voice to serious purpose.

Jacqueline Dark is a vocally warm and sensitive Emilia, and the remaining support roles (Stephen Bennett, Andrew Brunsdon, Andrew Moran and Shane Lowrencev) were all strong. The conductor, Simon Hewett, has alert and intelligent command of the work's musico-dramatic demands. This production remains a worthy and forceful interpretation of an enduring masterpiece.

Otello - July 18, 2008

A memorable, moving experience by Sarah Noble

Verdi: Otello Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 18 July 2008

Verdi's Otello is a rare bird. Arguably the composer's finest dramatic opera, it is also one of very few Shakespearean operas to do justice to the Bard. That's thanks partly to a composer as prodigiously gifted in his own field as Shakespeare was in his, and partly to Arrigo Boito's superbly concise adaptation, which removes much of the play's action and several of its characters while losing none of its impact. Stripped to bare essentials, Boito's libretto is a concentrated examination of the precarious personal relationships which are at the play's core. The score is one of Verdi's most extraordinary, his orchestral writing mingling clashing violence with swirling lyricism. Vocal lines are mostly fluid and naturalistic, eschewing the traditional recitative/aria structure, but incorporating several stunning set pieces. Harry Kupfer's bold production further tightens the opera's focus. Kupfer abandons the comfortably distant trappings of Elizabethan theatre, setting the scene in wartime Europe, in a mansion belonging to a senior member of an all too familiar (though never explicitly identified) Fascist party. Hans Schavernoch's single set is a massive black staircase shot through by a cross of red and gold carpet, a bronze Atlas rises at the centre. This is grandeur on the verge of disintegration, however: an architectural reflection of the characters' internal state. The carpet is worn and there's a charred and gaping bomb crater at one side, determinedly ignored by all on stage. Against this implacable backdrop, the emotional turmoil which plays out is brought into sharp relief - despite the obvious historical connotations, it is the personal, not the political, which drives this Otello. A strong and experienced cast rises to the challenge. Welsh tenor Dennis O'Neill is impressive as Otello, singing with nobility and thrilling Italianate thrust. His powerful voice encompasses both the pathos and the fury of this hugely difficult role, and he meets its technical demands with idiomatic ease. O'Neill's acting extends little further than grimaces and gesticulation, but there's no doubting his commitment, and the authority of his vocal performance compensates his dramatic shortcomings. Cheryl Barker is a finely-wrought Desdemona. No mere adoring sweetheart, Barker's Desdemona has consciously founded her own identity upon the might of her powerful husband; abandoned by him, she finds herself completely bereft of any other means of emotional support. Barker sings with grace, precision and prismatic beauty, effortlessly conveying Desdemona's shifting state of mind. She's sweet and vivacious in early scenes, touchingly bewildered in the face of her husband's wild accusations and finally, in her Willow Song and Ave Maria, she's a picture of desolate loveliness, her soaring tone, gossamer pianissimi and vivid dramatic sense combining to heartrending effect.

Best of all is Jonathan Summers' diabolical Iago, a figure of inhuman - yet shockingly believable - evil and cruelty. Iago's presence is made all the more unsettling by his army uniform and jackboots; his "Credo in un dio crudel" is delivered with horrifying sincerity and shades of Nuremberg. Summers' slightly threadbare baritone is ideally suited to his purpose, and he manipulates it brilliantly - snarling one moment, smoothly persuasive the next. Kanen Breen is brings attractive tone to Cassio, the unwitting centre of so much strife. After a worryingly muffled Elemer in Arabella, it's pleasing to hear Breen in such robust voice, although his preening stage presence make it hard to credit Cassio's promotion. Jacqueline Dark's Emilia resembles nothing so much as president of the local Women's Institute, but betrays real emotional depth in the opera's final moments and her rosy mezzo is a sumptuous, if fleeting, delight. Andrew Brunsdon is effective in his brief appearance as Roderigo, Shane Lowrencev dignified as the Venetian ambassador, and Andrew Moran's Herald another reminder of his very real promise. Verdi assigns a significant role to the chorus in Otello, and the Opera Australia chorus does an excellent job. It is they who open the opera, streaming down the stairs to Verdi's thunderous storm music, and they maintain that intensity throughout. It's a pity, though, that the uniformly strong singing on stage is not always matched in the pit. Simon Hewett - a protegé of Simone Young, who conducted the première of this production in 2003 - is effective in exploring the lush, radiant side of the score but a tendency to wallow means his reading can become hazy, robbing the opera of many of its striking orchestral colours. Even so, however, it's impossible deny the potency of Verdi's score. Brought to life by such a compelling cast of singers and fired by the genius of Harry Kupfer, it's a memorable, moving experience.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Don Giovanni, SOH - July 7, 2008

Latter-day Don doesn't quite seduce

Murray Black | July 07, 2008

Don Giovanni by Mozart
Director; Elke Neidhardt. Conductor: Mikhail Agrest.
Sydney Opera House, July 5. Tickets: $102-$246.
Bookings: (02) 9318 8200. Until September 10.

DIRECTOR Elke Neidhardt never shies away from taking risks. Whatever you think of the outcome, there's no denying the intellectual rigour and narrative coherence of her creations.

In her new production of Don Giovanni, the action is transferred from the 18th century to a stylised contemporary setting that conveys the universality of the story. The abstract but adaptable set is dominated by black and white hues, with periodic splashes of colour coming from flashing neon signs, washes of orange lighting and the sometimes garish costumes.

Ultimately, though, Neidhardt's dark, sombre vision of Don Giovanni only partially convinces. Addicted to the instant gratifications of sexual promiscuity and sensual pleasure, there's nothing glamorous about Giovanni's lifestyle. He just seems to be going through the motions.

That's fair enough on one level, but we need to believe there's something enjoyable and appealing about it if he is to have the vitality and allure that make him both irresistibly attractive to women and the opera's dominating force.

Unlike some directors, Neidhardt has certainly thought through the logical consequences of her modern adaptation. Superstitious elements are reinvented as cocaine-fuelled hallucinations. Concepts of heaven and hell have become meaningless so the final moralising sextet is removed. Instead, Giovanni's departure leaves the other characters dazed and confused.

There are drawbacks here, too. The central character's refusal to repent draws its power and courage from knowing that eternal damnation follows. Here it is diminished because we don't really sense what its consequences are.

Although Hungarian bass-baritone Gabor Bretz's interpretation of Don Giovanni suited Neidhardt's vision, he lacked the necessary charisma and charm. Vocally, however, he was persuasive, cleverly varying his tone to match the moment: rich and full-voiced when wooing his romantic prey, lighter and more unadorned elsewhere. Even finer was Joshua Bloom's Leporello. Sustaining a burnished, resonant timbre, his singing impressed with its excellent dynamic control, fluid phrasing and superb dexterity while his performance captured his character's cunning and servile resentment.

As Donna Anna, Rachelle Durkin's strong sense of line and bright, piercing tone suited the determined intensity of her character. Catherine Carby's richly coloured singing and passionate acting made for a fiery, feisty Donna Elvira, tormented by her conflicting emotions towards Giovanni. Henry Choo (Don Ottavio), Amy Wilkinson (Zerbina) and Richard Alexander (Masetto) all provided sterling support and the orchestral playing under the direction of Mikhail Agrest was largely stylish and alert.

In spite of its flaws, Neidhardt's production largely overcomes the inherent dangers that lurk in updating an opera. Even if it doesn't stir the emotions, her Don Giovanni stimulates the mind like few other productions have done.

Don Giovanni - Sydney Opera House 5 July 2008

The singing wins the day in this updated Giovanni by Sarah Noble

Mozart: Don Giovanni Opera Australia Sydney Opera House 5 July 2008

Don Giovanni is Mozart's darkest, most ambiguous work. Comic episodes punctuate a sinister tale of dark deeds and darker consequences; stock opera buffa characters mingle with - and themselves become - villains and victims. Such fascinating complexity invites subversive interpretation, and numerous directors have proved powerless to resist. Most recent to heed that call is Australia's Elke Neidhardt, whose bleak, black 21st century Don Giovanni opened this week in Sydney. Neidhardt's Giovanni is a callous, drug-taking playboy whose downfall is wrought not by the Commendatore's vengeance but by his own reckless lifestyle - the statue becomes a figment of a cocaine-induced hallucination; Giovanni's demise is the result of an excruciating overdose. Along the way, he assaults and is assaulted (sometimes explicitly) by various characters to whose lives he has blithely laid waste - a harmlessly trashy Zerlina, a garrulous and overwrought Elvira and his reluctant wing-man Leporello, all rendered in charmless modern style. The very concept will be anathema to some. Still, this is an opera rife with truly nasty behaviour and there is something to be said for an unflinching exposition of that underbelly - it's a valid, if not ideal or intrinsically appealing approach to the work. But it's an approach which requires both a cohesive vision and genuine innovation to succeed, and unfortunately Neidhardt's production delivers neither. Wavering between gritty realism and twisted stylisation without settling satisfactorily on either, this is a frustrating Don Giovanni in which momentary flashes of inspiration and black humour are promptly dulled by confused direction and unremittingly ugly sets. It's not all bad news, however. This may be a theatrically disappointing Don Giovanni, but its musical values are exceedingly high. Russian maestro Mikhail Agrest leads a tense and fast-paced performance, highlighting the fervour and turmoil of the score without denying its lyricism. Following a Mozartian precedent, Neidhardt and Agrest have cut the moralising sextet finale which usually ends the opera, choosing instead to finish with Giovanni's demise. It's an abrupt but curiously effective conclusion, although it probably requires even more decisive playing and singing to really make its mark.

Hungarian bass Gabor Bretz brings rugged self-assurance and a warmly expansive voice to the title role. In manner and in voice, his is a brutish Giovanni, in keeping with Neidhardt's vision; Bretz slides convincingly into character as a present-day bad boy. Narcissism is key - he is most compelling in the manic "Finch'han del vino" and later, in his wretched final scene; moments of suave seduction are less persuasive. Bretz's limelight is very nearly stolen, however, by Joshua Bloom's terrific Leporello. Bloom is the ideal comic foil, providing humour without resorting to pantomime comedy; he's also in magnificent voice, his "Madamina, il catalogo è questo" as mellifluous as it is funny. As an expensively attired and pathologically repressed Donna Anna, Rachelle Durkin sings with icy brilliance and fearsome virtuosity. Her stage presence is sometimes unfocused but vocally it's a powerful characterisation; her "Non mi dir", sung on the verge of a breakdown to an emotionally (then physically) absent Don Ottavio, is sensational. She's the polar opposite of Catherine Carby's hysterical Donna Elvira, a chaotic, gaudily dressed mess who can't even walk comfortably in her own preposterous pink high heels. Carby's voice may be a shade small for the role but she tackles it fearlessly and with astounding commitment; her staggering "Mi tradi" is possibly the production's finest moment. Current Young Artist Amy Wilkinson shows promise as a tarty Zerlina, singing with sweet, if sometimes strident, tone. Richard Anderson is a solid, conventional Masetto, singing well but apparently oblivious to the updated setting. Henry Choo's Don Ottavio is sung with his usual lilting beauty and pristine diction, but his ineffectual stage presence does little to enliven this basically gormless character. As the Commendatore, Jud Arthur is in characteristically towering voice, dominating the stage even while invisible. The chorus (in reduced form) sings with strength and spirit, particularly as the invisible spirits who drag Giovanni away. Visually, there's little to love in this barren modern-day Don Giovanni; aurally, it's another story entirely. See it for the singing, then; and if necessary, just close your eyes.

Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica

Don Giovanni, SOH - July 3, 2008

Don Giovanni

Peter McCallum, reviewer
July 3, 2008

Gabor Bretz is the latest singer to play the love-rat Don in Elke Neidhardt's edgy new production.

Playing opera's bad boy ... Gabor Bretz.
Photo: Marco Del Grande

THERE is a 19th-century tradition of interpreting Don Giovanni in the manner of Faust, where his desire for transcendence gets a little out of control. Elke Neidhardt's production gets away from the "male problem" - the Don begins as thoughtless and becomes progressively odious, until, rather than being dragged down to hell, he creates his own drug-induced one. She refocuses on the three female victims, making each an active rather than passive agent in their involvement with him, bringing interest and credibility to their motivations.

Instead of being a remote psycho-drama of the subconscious, the production becomes increasingly disturbing, because we all know people who display the pathological behaviour revealed here. It is a theatrically vivid and thought-provoking new reading and, as the mixture of cheers and boos at the end displayed, places the work once again at the uncomfortable edge between reassurance and disturbance. This is set up at the opening where Donna Anna appears as a far from reluctant participant in her own seduction, while the death of her father, the Commendatore, is an accidental result of criminally careless insolent treatment from Giovanni.

The subsequent behaviour of Donna Anna, a proudly statuesque Rachelle Durkin, is motivated by desire, guilt and revenge. Durkin's vocal projection and reliable agility is impressive: though there was room for variety of tone in Act I, her Act II aria, Crudele?, was wonderfully poised and polished.

Catherine Carby's Donna Elvira was the work's most interesting character in her comic, self-humiliating obsession with Giovanni, and she rose to the challenge with humour and poignancy. Her beautifully phrased and coloured Act II aria, Mi trada, was a musico-dramatic turning. Notwithstanding the psychological focus on the women, the two male leads, Joshua Bloom's Leporello, and Gabor Bretz's Giovanni, were superb and carried the show.

Bloom, as strong a Leporello as I have heard in an Opera Australia production, sang magnificently, while Bretz captured haughty power in his voice and demeanour, and mapped the evolution from thoughtlessness to psychosis with true mastery. Amy Wilkinson was a charmingly fallible Zerlina, against Richard Anderson's persuasive Masetto, while Henry Choo's smoothly lyrical tenor sound as Don Ottavio fitted the renewed interest that Neidhardt brought to what is traditionally one of the most boring relationships in all of opera.

The conductor, Mikhail Agrest, had a fine feel for telling tempos at crucial moments and brought sophisticated shape to phrases although the stage-pit co-ordination was not always perfect. Jud Arthur sang the Commendatore with impressive implacability, though with most of his involvement occurring offstage it almost wasn't worth his while putting on a suit for the evening.

The design, by Michael Scott-Mitchell, Jennie Tate, Julie Lynch and Nick Schlieper, was dark and angular, unified by diagonals and strong contrast as though to hint at fate's sinister and inhuman side.