Dvořák Festival Prague Stabat Mater - Opolais Kurukova Samek René Pape

Dvořák Stabat Mater, Prague  photo: Petra Hajska

Dvořák Stabat Mater keynote of the 2017 Dvořák Festival at the Rudolfinium, Prague. Emmanuele Villaume conducted the PKF Philharmonia, Prague, with the Czech Philharmonic Choir, Brno (concertmaster Petr Fila) and soloists Christine Opolais, Jana Kurucová, Richard Samek and René Pape. Outstanding singing - even better than on the recent recording where Jiří Bělohlávek conducted the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and Prague Philharmonic Choir. (read more here)  Bělohlávek  founded the PKF Philharmonia Prague in 1992 after he left the Czech Philharmonic The two orchestras thus had parallel lives.  Bělohlávek never really left the Czech Philharmonic, and became Chief Conductor again in 2010, heralding a new golden age for Czech repertoire, both in Czechia and in the UK.  The PKF Philharmonia Prague continues to thrive.Bělohlávek remained Conductor Laureate. The PKF has a slightly different profile and leaner, lighter sound.  But both orchestras honour Antonín Dvořák, whose statue stands facing the Rudolfinium as if he were a guiding spirit.  

The surging, swelling motifs in the first movement set the affirmative tone. Though the term Stabat Mater refers to the Virgin's Mary's grief as a mother on the death of her son, in theological terms it's a contemplation on faith.  Dvořák's Stabat Mater is sorrowful, but ultimately uplifting: the devout believe in the resurrection of the soul.  Thus the surging thrust that runs through the piece, the choir entering with "Stabat Mater!" in hushed tones.  While Bělohlávek shaped the pulse so profoundly that it resonated like the rhythms of a human body, Vuillame has the edge with far better singers. Richard Samek, the tenor, was superb.  He impressed in   Bělohlávek''s Dvořák Requiem earlier this year (read more here)r   His voice has a Helden ring, yet conveys depth and tragedy : when he sang Dalibor in 2015, he created the complexity in the character.  (read more here). Samek's voice was well complemented by that of Kristine Opolais.  She's a brilliant Rusalka, the silvery clarity of her timbre enriched by tenderness and sensitivity.  The women she portrays in her roles end up suffering.  An inspired choice for a cantata about the Virgin Mary, whose son must die for the good of mankind.  .  
Further depth was supplied by the richness of the voices of Jana Kurucová and René Pape.  Kurucová is relatively young, but interesting, while Pape is of course a mega star: luxury casting for a cantata. He's magnificent, the authority in his singing adding depth to all around him.  This Stabat Mater is worth hearing for him alone, he's so good.   Excellent balance between the four soloists, and between the soloists and male and female voices.  The Czech Philharmonic Choir of Brno are very good indeed.  Bělohlávek's Dvořák Stabat Mater is better orchestrally and the singing was fine, but the singing in this performance is in a different league, making this a Stabat Mater to remember.   "Amen ! Amen !" the choirs and soloists sang in multi-layered filigree, while the textures in the orchestra softened to rapturous wonder. 

Boito Mefistofele Pape Calleja Opolais Bayerische Staatsoper

Arrigo Boito Mefistofele was broadcast livestream from the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich last night. What a spectacular production! What an amazing cast - you could hardly wish for better! I loved the audio-only broadcast last month (read more here ) so no way was I going to miss the video version. I was not disappointed.

Boito's Mefistofele adapts Goethe's Faust to develop the idea of Mefistofele and his relationship with God.  They are equals, sort of, the Devil a punk with a huge chip on his shoulder, bristling with resentment even as he struts and shows off. Hence the sprawling set, which resembles the inside of some large structure, with pipes and scaffolding. In this sealed cocoon, Mefistofele is king though he's cut off from the real world outside where presumably God reigns.  René Pape, singing Mefistofele, is dressed part rock star, part oligarch, surrounded by groupies in an artificial fantasy world.  Are we in a film set? Or an infernal machine?   Mefistofele watches dull TV clips of John Lennon in  New York and of a plane flying over the NY skyline. We don't  see the Twin Towers, but we can draw our own conclusions without the point being made too obvious.

 Like so many big shots too big for their boots, Mefistofele thinks he can have a conference call with God, and place a bet.  All the while the Heavenly Chorus sing. We don't see them, for they are unsullied by evil.  René Pape is an ideal Mefistofele - suave, slimy and tacky, with that 70's shirt open to his waist. He suggests the Devil's twisted charm, but also makes us feel sorry for Mefistofele and his ardent desperation.  This double-edged portrayal adds depth to Pape's characterization. He whips through his lines with poisonous bite, but one senses that, deep down, Mefistofele is a misguided fool. 

Faust, or a facsimile thereof,  is brought on stage and dressed in white, readied for sacrifice. When the orchestra, conducted by Omar Meir Wellber, begins again, the stage has been transformed, This time it's dominated by a giant fairground carousel. The peasants, as in Faust, are celebrating.  More pointed wit. This production takes place in  Bavaria. The peasants sit at long tables drinking giant steins. Pape picks up a gingerbread heart with the motto "I mog di", "I love you" in Bavarian slang.

Joseph Calleja doesn't automatically spring to mind as an ascetic old monk, but Boito's Faust is different to stereotype.  By changing the part from baritone (in the 1868 version) to tenor in the 1875 Bologna version, the composer capitalized on a voice which could scale heights even French tenors might envy, while retaining the sensual loveliness of the Italian language. Calleja hits the notes and how!  He sings with enthusiastic flourish - this is a Faust who genuinely enjoys sensual pleasures. A wizened old hermit might not understand. Calleja is also a good visual foil to Pape's sophistication: devil and innocent. Or so it seems. Calleja nails,  and holds, stratospheric heights. We can sense that a part as lovely as this will triumph in the end.

Kristine Opolais shines with understated  Grace Kelly elegance, which makes her seduction feel more like rape, for it is, since Faust is not what he really should be. The trio at the end of the scene sparks with tension  Faust and Margherita are swept away by the force of the sharp, dotted rhythms that mark Mefistofele's music.

The Walpurgisnacht scene is demonic: sharp woodwind flurries suggesting hellfire, perhaps, or moonlight? Calleja and Pape sing in tight lockstep "Folletto ! Folleto!". The manic staccato theme is taken up by the chorus, which then switches to quiet whisper, while the orchestra  creates the sprightly "hellfire" motif, first in the woodwinds, then through the celli and basses. The brightness of Calleja's voice contrasts well with Pape's, whose voice grows darker and more malevolent now that Faust is in his realm. The final chorus whips along with crazed energy: the witches are dancing wildly before the "flames" in the orchestra. "Sabba, Sabba, Saboè!"

Back on earth, Opolais sings  L'altra notte in fondo al mare and what follows with great emotional depth. Her Margherita is a woman steeled by suffering.  When she and Calleja sing Lontano, lontano, lontano, they bring out tenderness and tragedy, beauty and pain. Opolais sings the Spunta, l'aurora pallida with such calm heroism that Calleja's O strazio crudel! tears at the heart.  Faust sees the suffering, and women writhing in labour, but soon comes under the spell of Elena, Helen of Troy ((Karine Babajanyan)

In the orchestra  we hear the exquisite harp sequence, setting the tone for the love  duet between Elena and Faust that will follow. The harmony, though, is but a dream. Faust is back in his study, dimly lit, as we might  imagine from the quiet murmurs in the orchestra.  Faust is a very old man again, and in this production is seen in a home for geriatrics.  This is a sharper observation than one might expect because it shows Faust as part of a community, rather than alone, and makes connections to Goethe's Faust, who believed so strongly in society and humankind. It was Wagner (Andrea Borghini)  who thought peasants were a waste of time. This ending also emphasizes the idealism with which Faust defeats Mefistofele.  The good of mankind versus the Devil's enticements.,

"Cammina, cammina" Mefistofele calls. This time, Faust fights back. Calleja sings with undecorated, but  heroic firmness. "Faust! Faust!"  Pape cries, but his prey has slipped from his grasp. The chorus returns, in full, glorious voice with the orchestra in full glory. Even René Pape is no match.  But Mefistofele is defeated. Faust has overcome his sensual needs, choosing instead the greater good of mankind. Heaven breaks through Mefistofele's realm with blinding  light.  The director is Roland Schwab, who started his career with Ruth Berghaus. the sets are by Piero Vinciguerra.  On small   screen broadcast, we might have lost some of the overwhelming impact of the live experience, but we see the details. And what glorious singing! Later, it's occured to me that the other people in the nursing home, who were singing in the finale, might have been angels all along. (see photo below)

Manon Lescaut, ROH - first thoughts

First thoughts on Manon Lescaut at the Royal Opera House. Genius Kristine Opolais, genius Pappano, and Kaufmann genius after the first Act.  This production is so powerful that it's bound to shock. But why not? If we aren't horrified by what happens to women like Manon Lescaut, the fault lies with us. Anyone who can't be moved by that final scene must have cement for blood. My full review is HERE. - Provocative but Werktreue - Manon Lescaut, Royal Opera House

Why is the production controversial? Puccini's Manon Lescaut hasn't been seen at the Royal Opera House for 30 years, so Londoners are probably much more familiar with Massenet's Manon, revived at least twice in the last 5 years.  But they are radically different operas. Mix them up and you've got problems.  In Massenet, Manon and Des Grieux have a love nest in a garret. No wonder those familiar with Manon expect Manon Lescaut to be similarly romantic. But Puccini is not sentimental. He goes straight to Geronte's mansion and to the sordid business of sex and money. Anyone who's shocked ought to read the score, instead of imposing their own expectations. 

Geronte thinks he's an artist. Because he thinks he owns Manon, so he uses her as a canvas to act out his fantasies. Jonathan Kent isn't making this up. Read the score. One minute Manon is in her boudoir, putting on makeup, talking to her brother. Next minute, musicians pour in and the have to be shooed out. Then  Geronte fa cenno agli amici di tirarsi in disparte e di sedersi. Durante il ballo alcuni servi girano portando cioccolata e rinfreschi. (Geronte beckons to friends to stand on the sidelines and sit. During the dance some servos are bringing chocolate and refreshments). The guests know that Manon sleeps with Geronte. They have come in order to be titillated.  It's not the dancing they've come to admire. They're pervs. Geronte is showing off, letting his pals know what a catch Manon is. Hence the dancing: a physical activity that predicates on the body and the poses a body can be forced into "Tutta la vostra personcina,or s'avanzi! Cosi!... lo vi scongiuro" sings the Dancing master. But he has no illusions. "...a tempo!", he sings, pointing out quite explicitly that her talents do not include dance. "Dancing is a serious matter!" he says, in exasperation. But the audience don't care about dancing. They've come to gape at Manon. There's nothing romantic in this. Geronte is a creep who exploits women. It's an 18th century live sex show. Geronte's parading his pet animal.

So Manon concurs? So many vulnerable women get caught up in the sick game, for whatever reason. The love scene that follows , between Opolais and Kaufmann is all the morer magical because we've seen the brutality Manon endured to win her jewels.  Perhaps we also feel (at least I did) some sympathy for Manon's materialistic little soul. She knows that money buys a kind of freedom.When news of Mark Anthony Turnage's commission for Anna Nicole first emerged, some were surprised. Others said "Manon Lescaut". The story goes on an on.

At first I couldn't understand what the film crew and lighting booms meant but I think they suggest the way every society exploits women and treats them as objects for gratification. Later, the lighting booms close down like prison bars. Some of the women being transported are hard cases but others are women who've fallen into bad situations, but are equally condemned.  Far from being sexist, this production addresses something universal and very present about society.  I'm still not sure about the giant billboard "Naiveté" but there is no law that says we have to get every detail at once. Perhaps Kent is connecting to  advertising images and popular media. Suddenly the billboard reverses and we see behind the facade. By the way, there are no deserts near New Orleans, so anyone screaming for "realism" should remember that opera is art. Manon and Des Grieux are in a metaphorical desert, literally at the end of the road. I'm still reeling with emotion at that last image of Opolais  and Kaufmann suspended in  mid air, "orizzonte vastissimo, cielo annuvolato".  Only boors could boo after that.

People  wail about "trusting the composer". But it is they who don't trust the composer. Any decent opera can inspire so much in so many. No-one owns the copyright on interpretation. But the booing mob don't permit anyone else to have an opinion and insist on forcing their own on others who might be trying to engage more deeply. It's time, I think, to call the bluff on booers. They don't actually care about opera. Like Geronte, they're into control.

Review to follow in Opera Today
photo : Bill Cooper, Royal Opera House (details embedded)

Kristine Opolais - exclusive interview !

An exclusive interview with Kristine Opolais in Latinos Post by David Salazar : very well written, very personal and interesting hints for the future. Read it in full HERE.

On singing Cio Cio San whichs she sang at the MET on Friday, replacing Patricia Racette
"The story for me is about the baby," she explained. "Every normal woman that is a mother will do everything for your baby to make sure he is happy. Every mother understands that the baby is only happy being with his or her mother. Every single time I play it is so terrible. I am fighting with myself not to cry because I am very emotional...."She lost all of her hope and love, but for her the most important loss is her child. She cannot live without the child, that is why she is killing herself."

When Opolais sang Cio Cio San at her Royal Opera House role debut, my friends and I were overwhelmed - we didn't know that she was nearly 5 months pregnant at the time (my review is here) . "Now it is hard from the very beginning. The entire first act brings me to tears because I know where it is headed. The mNow ieeting with Pinkerton is a tragedy. I don't see the illusion of love anymore," she revealed. "Yesterday I sent my manager a message saying, 'Not too much Butterfly in my future.' He was shocked and said, 'You're a spinto soprano. What are you going to sing?' I told him that it was just too hard Especially for me who gives 100 percent in rehearsal and 200 percent in every performance. I have to fight with myself not to cry while I am onstage." 

Plus, lots more on role interpretation. Pure vocalism is never enough!

Please also read my interview with Ermonela Jaho, a Royal Opera House favorite. Both of them specialize in similar roles, but Jaho sings more frequently in France and Italy. Like Opolais, she  believes in emotional engagement with what she sings and brings out the intense tragedy that lies behind the surface prettiness in the characters.