| Opera Australia's Cav & Pag fails to catch fire by Sarah Noble | |
| Mascagni: Cavalleria rusticana Leoncavallo: Pagliacci Opera Australia Sydney Opera House January 2009 | |
| Director Andrew Sinclair has opted for a traditional approach. In some ways, this simplicity is admirable but ultimately it's far too static for the grand passions depicted. In both operas, there is a frustrating imbalance between background and foreground: the operas' respective sets of villagers abound with individual stage business while their leads seem to wander aimlessly among them, characterization dependent more on each artist's own personal magnetism than a considered directorial conception. Welsh tenor Dennis O'Neill, a frequent guest here, appears as both Turiddu (Cavalleria rusticana) and Canio (Pagliacci). His ringing, Italian tenor is in excellent form from the first notes of Turiddu's offstage serenade to the tragic conclusion of Pagliacci - his phrasing is fluid, his timbre distinctive and his voice secure from top to bottom. It's a shame he hasn't a comparable gift for stagecraft. There's very little sense of character development in his Turiddu, despite the huge emotional upheaval the character experiences, and there's insufficient distinction made between that characterisation and his Canio. His characters' fraught encounters with the women in their lives fall disappointingly flat, his unresponsiveness proving difficult to overcome, despite admirable efforts from the women in the cast. Also appearing in both operas is Australian baritone Jonathan Summers, who quickly emerges as the backbone the evening. Alfio receives relatively little stage time in Cavalleria rusticana, but Summers' riveting presence, subtle characterisation and dark, purring baritone transform him into the opera's central figure, or close to it. Better still is his unsettling turn as Pagliacci's disfigured and ultimately vengeful Tonio. Summers' vehement delivery of the opera's famous prologue ("Si puo?") is positively Shakespearean: even O'Neill's stellar rendition of "Vesti la giubba" doesn't quite outshine it. | |
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Amelia Farrugia slinks and struts through Nedda's amorous entanglements with impish glee. It's an enjoyable but basically shallow characterisation: her Nedda is too superficial to be sympathetic, even when her flightiness gives way to real emotions. The role obliges Farrugia to make a rare and welcome excursion into the middle of her voice: happily, she finds more colour there than she has previously displayed, although the upper register remains by far the stronger and more interesting part of her voice. José Carbo sings with sincerity and suave, secure tone as her lover, Silvio, his powerful and mellifluous baritone making the role's comparative brevity all the more lamentable. Tenor Stephen Smith puts in an impressive star turn as Beppe, his light, graceful tenor complemented by smart, perceptive acting. Maestro Andrea Licata's reading of the two scores sweeps broad strokes of colour, opting for a dense sound, soaked in Mediterranean sun, over multifaceted transparency. The approach works well in parts but occasionally goes too far: slower passages grow soporific, while the tension in some moments of high drama is dulled. Thankfully, Licata's innate understanding of the style and the undeniably evocative scores of both operas - along with a healthy dash of muscular orchestral playing - prevent it falling into total torpor. There's a strong contribution from the chorus in both operas: they're especially effective in Cavalleria's moving prayer, operatic voices scaled back sufficiently to truly evoke a church service. Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci are two of the most flamboyantly Italian works in the repertoire. It's a pairing full of melodramatic potential, capable, in the right hands, of setting an opera house alight. Opera Australia's revival has flashes of inspiration, a few of them very bright indeed - but it's definitely no fire hazard. | |
| Text © Sarah Noble Photos © Branco Gaica   |
The double bill of Mascagni's Cavalleria rusticana and Leoncavallo's Pagliacci is frequently touted as an ideal beginner's night at the opera, and in many ways it is: two tightly woven, musically rewarding pieces, stuffed with all the Mediterranean melodrama a novice could want from a first opera. But that thrilling potential requires a thrilling creative team to realise it. The forces assembled for Opera Australia's current revival are certainly none too shabby, and the resulting production has a good deal to offer: but it doesn't exactly blaze with Road to Damascus brilliance. Operatic evangelists looking for converts during this summer season would do better to direct their novitiates to the company's revival of Madama Butterfly: this Cav/Pag is not guaranteed to do the trick. 
Nicole Youl sings with restrained purity as Cavalleria's Santuzza. She's touching in the character's early scenes as the downtrodden social outcast, and her soft, silvery tone soars in her prayer. Her rather placid portrayal is at odds with Santuzza's more vicious outbursts, however, and her encounters with both Turiddu and Alfio suffer as a result. Jacqueline Dark is persuasive as the hunched, greying Mamma Lucia. But it is Dominica Matthews' sultry Lola who takes first honours among the women of Cavalleria, her flaming red hair and smoky contralto radiating seductive danger. 
Two days before the end of 2008, Opera Australia opened its 2009 season with perhaps the most popular opera of all, Puccini's Madama Butterfly. Moffatt Oxenbould's production, now twelve years old, remains as enchantingly youthful as Cio-Cio San herself. Cluttered exoticism gives way to an approach revelatory in its simplicity, where naturalism mingles seamlessly with stylised, balletic movement and elements of mysticism. The design by Russell Cohen and Peter England evokes a fragrant and sensual Japan, the spare, formalist set contrasting with the startling blues, pinks and reds of those who populate it. Robert Bryan's lighting design creates some extraordinary effects; the glow which surrounds Cio-Cio San in her midnight vigil is especially striking. It is a production which is suggestive rather than slavish in its detail, drawing inspiration from Oriental tradition without applying a theatrical concept so rigorously as to overshadow the opera's human centre - or its music. 
Catherine Carby's presence as Suzuki seems like luxury casting, but in fact she's precisely as luxurious as the role itself demands. Suzuki is commonly cited as the archetypal Thankless Mezzo Role, but while she mightn't have a great deal to sing, her presence is nevertheless vital. Carby fills this role with delicate sincerity, and when she does sing, her shimmering mezzo is a delight, lighter than might be expected in the role, but surprisingly powerful. 
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.
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.
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 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. 
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. 
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. 
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.
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. 
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.