Also available on Blu-ray

A MusicWeb International Recording of the Month

Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) is a three act opera Singspiel by W. A. Mozart. With libretto by Christoph Friedrich Bretzner, the plot follows the attempt of Belmonte and his servant Pedrillo to rescue his Konstanze from the seraglio of Pasha Selim. This production comes from the Glyndebourne Chorus, and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenmnent conducted by Robin Ticciati. Director David McVicar has strived in this production to give an original-period version of the opera. The costuming from Vicki Mortimer and the sets add to the dazzling performance. “Mesmerising, sensitive, at times troublingly erotic, the whole thing forces us to rethink a remarkable work. Outstanding.” (The Guardian)

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REVIEW:

Like most opera lovers I have my favourite composers and operas. High on my list are Verdi and Mozart works, the latter's Le nozze di Figaro, one of the greatest operatic stage works in many peoples opinion, and Verdi’s Don Carlo feature at the top of my list. However, in the case of both named composers there is other of their works that I love dearly which do not feature so regularly in recordings, or live in the theatre. In the Mozart oeuvre Die Entführung aus dem Serail, a title often shortened to Il Seraglio, the harem in translation, features highly. After some years of relative neglect, perhaps out of mistaken political correctness relating to the impact of Muslim fundamentalism, this work has returned to favour. It is defined as a singspiel, a work of musical numbers interspersed by spoken dialogue. Perhaps to get away from the traditional and any other sensitivities, this renaissance has led to some rather quirky productions including one set on The Orient Express; yes, a train for a harem, any gimmick is possible for some directors and designers. I could not imagine how it could work and it didn’t (see review). Similarly, Opera North treated the work as slapstick (see review). I go back to the early 1980s when Glyndebourne produced elegant sets by William Dudley alongside a touring cast that brought the best out of Mozart’s creation and whilst not shirking a coloured harem guard, Osmin, complete with curled toe shoes and fez. That production, and elegant sets, were caught on film at the main Glyndebourne Festival and is available on DVD in 4:3 aspect (review). I found much to commend in a later production from Florence in 2002 by Eike Gramss with sets by Christoph Wagenknech and costumes by Catherine Voeffray. Issued in 2011 in now standard 16:9 screen aspect it impressed me to the extent that I gave it the imprimateur of a DVD of the month (review). Its timing of 136 minutes gives a clue to limitations that include severe slashing of much of the spoken dialogue. I had experience of a full dialogue version in a BluRay of Christof Loy’s minimalist production filmed in the Gran Teatre de Liceu in July 2011. However, I did not like the modern dress and minimalist set (review). Aware of this limitation, when I heard that David McVicar, a favourite director of mine, was to direct a new production at Glyndebourne in 2015, with the dialogue complete, I was more than a little interested to the extent I recently bought a copy of the DVD and which I review here.

Die Entführung aus dem Serail was a groundbreaking work for Mozart. As an appendix, I recount the circumstances of the work’s creation and how it was a watershed in his compositional life. Meanwhile, let me state quite clearly that this performance and staging, complete with all the spoken dialogue, is the best I have seen and heard of this work in a long life of opera going. McVicar and his designer update the work as far as Mozart’s time, thus allowing a traditionalist staging and which is particularly opulent and apt. The characters are all in appropriate costume and the sets represent what we might expect of a seraglio and not far from that to be seen today in Granada, Spain, and built during the Ottoman Empire.

One of the consequences of the inclusion of all the spoken dialogue is the importance of Franck Saurel, the actor who speaks the role of Pasha Selim. He does so with his vocal nuance and body language matching his acting, an altogether outstanding portrayal and indicating something as to why there are times when Sally Matthews’ Konstanze’s response to him is equivocal in respect of his sexual impact on her. However, she maintains her dignity and faithfulness to her lover, singing and acting outstandingly in all respects. She excels in the long recit and aria Traurigheit ward mir zum Lose and Martern aller Arten of Act I and shows her doughty character vocally in the second act in particular. As her suitor, who braves the pasha’s domain in pursuit of her, Edgaras Montvidas acts the somewhat starchy character well whilst not quite matching her in ideal vocal mellifluousness. The other two Europeans captured and working in the Pashas palace benefit from two excellent portrayals and performances from Mari Eriksmoen as Blonde, Konstanze’s maid, and the superb acting of Brenden Gunnell as her would be lover. The manner of his acting, particularly when seeking to spike Osmin’s ardour for Blonde, are quite magnificent. Then there is Osmin himself. Very often the role is somewhat marred by slapstick. Here, Tobias Kehrer creates a funny, but fearful character, such as Mozart must have had in mind for the role. The phrases roll off his tongue as he relishes the vocal and acted demands made on him.

To conclude my enthusiasm and pleasure at this issue, I find the conducting by the flying fingers of conductor Robin Ticciati, and his period band forces, to be ideal accompanists throughout, as well as bringing an appropriate verve and vitality to the proceedings.

– MusicWeb International (Robert J. Farr)

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Also available on standard DVD

Don Giovanni, Mozart’s sublime tragic comedy, offers boundless scope for directors. Kasper Holten shifts the emphasis from Don Giovanni’s sex life into a darker place, showing Giovanni’s womanizing as an attempt to stave off his own mortality. Each woman he seduces represents a life he could have had. Though it is a dark piece, Holten handles it all with a light touch. Led by conductor Nicola Luisotti, the superb cast features Mariusz Kwiecien as Don Giovanni, Alex Esposito and French soprano Véronique Gens. ‘‘…a cast that can’t be bettered today…demands to be seen.’’ Seen and Heard Int’l

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
DON GIOVANNI
(Blu-ray Disc Version)

Don Giovanni - Mariusz Kwiecie?
Leporello - Alex Esposito
Donna Anna - Malin Byström
Commendatore - Alexander Tsymbalyuk
Don Ottavio - Antonio Poli
Donna Elvira - Véronique Gens
Zerlina - Elizabeth Watts
Masetto - Dawid Kimberg
Donna Elvira’s Maid - Josephine Arden

Royal Opera Chorus
(chorus master: Renato Balsadonna)
Royal Opera House Orchestra
Nicola Luisotti, conductor

Kasper Holten, stage director
Es Devlin, set designer
Anja Vang Kragh, costume designer
Bruno Poet, lighting designer
Signe Fabricius, choreographer

Recorded live at the Royal Opera House, February 2014

Bonus:
- Introductions: Don Giovanni’s Women
- Director’s Commentary

Picture format: 1080i High Definition
Sound format: LPCM 2. 0 / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English, French, German, Japanese, Korean
Running time: 187 mins
No. of Discs: 1 (Blu-ray)

Also available on Blu-ray



MOZART MOZART Die Zauberflöte • Roland Böer, cond; Saimir Pirgu (Tamino); Genia Kühmeier (Pamina); Alex Esposito (Papageno); Albina Shagimuratova (Queen of the Night); Günther Groissböck (Sarastro); Ailish Tynan (Papagena); Peter Bronder (Monostatos); La Scala O & Ch • OPUS ARTE OA 1066 D (DVD: 172:00); OA BD7099 D (Blu-ray: 172:00) Live: Milan 3–4/2011


This very Masonic opera pits the forces of Light—love, honesty, trust, reason, enthusiasm—against those of Darkness—lust, hatred, deception, fear, despair. William Kentridge in an interview included on this disc speaks of envisioning the original Masons in specific and the Enlightenment in general as part of a movement that brought “benign” colonialism to Africa, Asia, etc. He states that Die Zauberflöte is far less a matter of black-and-white sides when understood in this fashion, but instead of shades of gray. Fortunately, only some of this historically suspect interpretation actually finds its way into his production and set design. The result has its quirks, and some things definitely don’t work, but by and large it’s wildly creative and fun.


Multimedia has seldom been used so extensively in opera, so stylishly, or to such advantage. Kentridge essentially riffs on the idea of backlit projections as physical location, metaphor, and commentary, employing imagery drawn from turn-of-the-19th-century material. So when Tamino walks to a part of the stage, the words Tempel der Vernugt (Temple of Reason) are superimposed via projection; then he stands still, and the transparent gate of the stone edifice seems to pass over him. The second gate advances from the other side to silhouette itself on the first, a visual equivalent of the Prince’s compounded confusion. When Papageno’s music is first heard before his entrance, Tamino turns a projector/camera crank that throws on the back curtain a shadow image of a human who morphs briefly into a giant bird, and can pull birds out of thin air: Papageno, in other words, here depicted as something half-magical. Again, when Papageno and Monostatos cower on stage during their meeting, as each sings, the silhouetted image behind him is of the other looming over his huddled figure brandishing a weapon. I can’t praise such moments highly enough, and many others like them.


But I’m not convinced by Kentridge’s dressing up the Priest as an academician before a classroom chalkboard, showing geometric drawings—not when his discussion with Tamino is about love and virtue. Similarly, “In diesen heil’gen Hallen” doesn’t lend itself under any circumstances to backlit abstract geometric lines, equations, and a black-and-white silent film of a pair of pith-helmeted explorers viewing some previously unknown savannah. True, a bad king might speak such words as Schikaneder has written, while pursuing policies more along the lines of Belgium’s morally repulsive Leopold II; but no king could lie so convincingly to such music as Mozart has written. It’s a rule of opera (with very few exceptions) that music defines a character’s emotions, and Sarastro is all about benevolent, equalizing, all-embracing love, not logic and territorial invasion. The fit simply is wrong.


The static pictures that Kentridge often creates with his characters are necessary for the fluid animated line drawings à la Émile Cohl that loom over large portions of the stage. The performers’ acting is generally very good, though the singing is variable. Samir Pirgu offers a distinguished “Dies Bildnis,” but Ailish Tynan begins tremulously, with a few efforts at pitch that fail. Before the end of “Ich Vogelfanger bin ich ja” his voice settles down, revealing a thin but pleasant lyric baritone that turns harsh when pressed. Albina Shagimuratova is a lyric soprano Queen (and excels in this respect) rather than a stratospheric coloratura one, who manages the figurations of “Du wirst sie zu befreyen gehen” with slight uneasiness at the moderate speed Böer sets for her. Peter Bronder wobbles and barks his way through his part, but Genia Kühmeier delivers a beautifully refined “Ach ich fühls.” Günther Groissböck supplies a rock-solid bass and cantabile singing for Sarastro. I do feel his two arias go by too quickly under conductor Roland Böer, and are rendered prosaic as a result. This is as nothing compared to the music in the act I quintet that first introduces us to the Three Boys, however, which suddenly accelerates with a wrenching change of tempo, and rushes to its conclusion—as though people shouldn’t enjoy it. These are only a few of the changes to the score based as we are told on René Jacobs’s interpretation. There are noodling fortepiano chords between concert pieces and secco recitative at various times, such as at the conclusion of Tamino’s aria, and an entirely new section accompanying an overlong shadow play of Monostatos terrorizing Pamina. Since none of these alterations have ever been established as more than Jacobs’s personal preferences, however intelligent the source, it amounts to defining a new tradition every bit as arbitrary and in several instances anachronistic as any 19th-century one.


The camerawork by Patrizia Carmine is excellent, working obviously to second Kentridge’s design. Subtitles are furnished in English, French, German, Spanish, and Italian, with audio formats in Dolby Digital and DTS surround, and a visual format of 16:9 anamorphic.


I have my reservations, and some of them are strong. But for sheer visual exuberance and insight this Zauberflöte trumps the rest. I only wish Kentridge the stage director with an Idea didn’t get in the way of Kentridge the imaginative artist, but there’s so much of the latter that I’m more than willing to forgive the former. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal


Sarastro – Günther Groissböck
Tamino – Saimir Pirgu
Queen of the Night – Albina Shagimuratova
Pamina – Genia Kühmeier
Papagena – Ailish Tynan
Papageno – Alex Esposito
Monostatos – Peter Bronder


Milan La Scala Chorus and Orchestra
Roland Böer, conductor

William Kentridge, stage director

Recorded live at La Teatro alla Scala, 20 March 2011

Bonus:
- Overview of The Magic Flute
- Illustrated synopsis

Picture format: NTSC 16:9 anamorphic
Sound format: LPCM 2.0 / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English, French, German, Italian, Spanish
Running time: 150 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

One of the great violinists of the twentieth century, Henryk Szeryng was an artist greatly celebrated during his lifetime, but is sadly known only to experts today. Looking back, his reputation may have been overshadowed by some of his contemporaries, but in terms of his flawless technique and the power and beauty of his tone, Szeryng unquestionably remains one of the great masters of his era. These two live concert recordings from December 7, 1969 feature performances by the South West German Chamber Orchestra Pforzheim. Szerying, as both soloist and conductor, stamps his natural authority on the music from the very first note, with his straightforward approach and clear sense of direction driving the entire ensemble. The soloist’s idiosyncratic nuances of tempo infect the whole structure, while his exuberant playing dominates the entire performance. In Vivaldi’s ever-popular Four Seasons, Szeryng applies clear and often abrupt contrasts: heavy marcato, lively staccato, flawlessly balanced legato and, above all, his consummate tenuto, which seamlessly links every bow change. This last trait also thoroughly distinguishes his Mozart playing from almost anything to which our ears are accustomed today. When it comes to Mozart, we can admire the naturalness of his interpretation and his choice of tempi, which are not adopted merely for effect, but govern the logic and clarity of the articulation.

GLUCK Iphigénie en Aulide.1 Iphigénie en Tauride2 & • Marc Minkowski, cond; 1Véronique Gens (Iphigénie); 2Mireille Delunsch (Iphigénie); Salomé Haller (Diana); Nicolas Testé (Agamemnon); Anne Sofie von Otter (Clytemnestre); Frédéric Antoun (Achille); Martijn Cornet (Patrocle); Laurent Alvaro (Arcas/Thoas); Jean-François Lapointe (Oreste/Calchas); Yann Beuron (Pylade); Netherlands Op Ch; Les Musiciens du Louvre Grenoble • OPUS ARTE 1099 (2 DVDs: 229:00) Live: Amsterdam 9/7/2011

& The making of “Iphigénie en Aulide”; “Iphigénie en Tauride” (38: 00)

This two-DVD set documents an unusual evening in the theater, with both of Gluck’s Iphigénie operas being given on one night as a double bill. The risk of mounting such a project is great, not least because these operas are very draining on both cast and audience. The fact that Marc Minkowski was able to pull this off was due in no small measure to the intelligent casting, which duplicated only two singers in both operas: Salomé Haller as Diana and Laurent Alvaro, who sings the small role of Arcas in the first opera and Thoas in the second.

For those unfamiliar with these Gluck operas, they represent somewhat different styles despite their similar subject matter and the fact that they were only written five years apart. Gluck’s growth as a creative artist in those five years was phenomenal, almost as stunning as Igor Stravinsky’s growth between the first and last acts of his opera The Nightingale. In Iphigénie en Aulide, although he already has a firm grasp of the new musico-dramatic structures he had created, he was still operating in an essentially lyric vein. There are strophic arias and all of the recitatives are orchestrally accompanied, which gives the music a remarkable sense of unity that was very rare in those days, but by 1779, when he wrote Iphigénie en Tauride, his sureness of handling drama through music had grown to its full maturity. The later opera, even from its opening notes, has a much greater thrust and impetuosity in both the orchestral and vocal writing than was present in the earlier opera. This, then, presents director, cast, and conductor with another challenge, which is how to reconcile the differing styles of these operas in one night’s performance.

Pierre Audi’s direction is singularly arresting and brilliant despite sparse sets and updated, somewhat ridiculous costumes. We see Iphigénie and Achille singing to each other in trench coats; when Iphigénie appears later in the first opera, she is wearing a bomb belt on what looks like a prom dress and a greasepaint X on her forehead to indicate that she has been marked for death. Calchas, the High Priest, looks nerdy in a blue suit with shirt open at the collar and horn-rimmed glasses—and, of course, we get our ubiquitous mostly-naked guy in tight slacks (who turns out to be Arcas). In act II, Agamemnon appears in a carnival cruise ship captain’s outfit, complete with dorky hat and a little winged emblem on it (and sunglasses…don’t forget the sunglasses, even though the stage is nearly as dark as pitch). In short, the costumes are rather ridiculous. The set, such as it is, consists of two high but narrow staircases on either side of the very small stage. Yet to Audi’s credit, he directs around this nonsense to create a dramatic presentation that is both interesting and appropriate to an updating of Greek theater. One can almost envision these singing actors performing their roles in more conventional costumes and sets, and their portrayals are dramatically apropos as well as fascinating to watch.

As for the singers in the first opera, pride of place goes to Nicolas Testé as Agamemnon. He possesses a large, well-focused voice that can even negotiate a trill, and his acting is superb. Nearly as fine are Véronique Gens as Iphigénie and Frédéric Antoun as Achille. Both have smallish voices of the sort that Gluck undoubtedly wrote for, yet they are pointed and carry well and their duets are a joy to the ear. Less impressive is Jean-François Lapointe as Calchas, whose voice has a flutter and an insufficient low range for the role. Anne Sofie von Otter, quite frankly, has little or nothing left of what was once a lovely if small voice. Twenty-plus years of singing, including several roles too large for her, have left the voice wobbly and hollow-sounding. She lacks volume even in so small a theater as this one that De Nederlandse Opera performs in. Her acting as always is spot-on, but I’m not listening to her just for acting. I want some voice, too.

Yet through it all, holding everything together, is the golden thread of Minkowski’s conducting, so that in the end one feels justified in going through this experience for his sure-handed leadership. One of the virtues of hearing a conductor this gifted is his way of knitting everything together so that chorus-recit-aria-vocal ensemble all flows seamlessly and naturally, with appropriate dramatic peaks when called for. Besides, it’s such a rare treat to actually see a production of any Gluck opera nowadays that I can almost overlook von Otter’s vocal faults and the silly costumes. Even in the earlier Iphigénie opera, one can clearly hear Gluck’s musical innovations and—more importantly for us today, with 20/20 hindsight—how much these innovations impacted the music of Cherubini, Spontini, Berlioz, and eventually Wagner. This is especially evident in those orchestrally accompanied recitatives: With their brief, almost blunt melodic thrusts, they stab into the listener’s ears in such a way that they convey the impetuosity of the characters. How ironic, then, that the “bel canto boys,” Rossini-Bellini-Donizetti, turn recitatives back into semi-parlando mush in the early decades of the 19th century. Listen—for just one small example-to the way Agamemnon sings of his daughter, whom he loves, and the tender accents that Gluck imparts to the orchestra behind him, using soft winds; then, immediately after, as he thinks of the sacrifice he is about to make, the tempo doubles and short, stabbing strings cut into his words. This is writing of pure genius. There is no other way to describe it.

The one demerit one can make against Gluck (and, specifically, his librettist) is that they whitewashed the story in order to provide a happy ending. In reality, Agamemnon had no guilt pangs or second thoughts about sacrificing his daughter, and in fact Iphigénie was killed to appease Diana; but by changing the ending of the story, Gluck was not only able to send his audiences home whistling a happy tune but also to manufacture out of thin air the “legend” that Diana took Iphigénie to her home island of Tauride, where the unfortunate girl spent much of her time doing what her father wanted to do to her: killing—oops, sacrificing—strangers who landed there to the goddess. Fabricated the story may be, but Gluck turned it into one of the most riveting operas ever written.

After a rough beginning, in which her voice is unsteady and very nasal, Mireille Delunsch brings it into clear focus and gives a good account of Iphigénie. Mind you, her performance here will not efface memories of Carol Vaness or Susan Graham, but it’s very fine on its own merits. As in the first opera, Minkowski’s conducting is just spectacular—he really “drives the storm” that opens this opera with intense fury—and again he manages to knit together the various scenes into a cohesive whole. Here, too, the staging makes even more sense that it did in the first opera, and except for Thoas (Laurent Alvaro) wearing a modern-day military uniform (what the heck is it with Regietheater directors and military uniforms? If they want to wear one so badly, just put it on yourself and leave the characters in their traditional garb!) most of the costumes here make much more sense. Sadly, Alvaro’s voice is consistently unsteady despite a bright timbre and his high notes covered and nasal. In short, he’s a poor choice for a role that requires long stretches of singing that are powerful and call for dramatic focus. The two priestesses, Simone Riksman and Rosanne van Sandwijk, are splendid, but the smaller male roles are sung rather pitifully.

Happily, our Oreste (Lapointe) and Pylade (Yann Beuron) are quite fine, which is important because from the point of their entrance onward they get the lion’s share of the singing. The staging of Iphigénie’s aria in which she grieves for her dead family is very well sung and staged, but I question the need to have Thoas come sneering into the picture to kiss her at the end.

Suffice it to say that Minkowski uses “original instruments” (or facsimiles thereof) as well as lower pitch (whether the A=409 supposedly used by French court tuner Pascal Taskin in 1783, the A=407.9 used a few years earlier, or Mozart’s A=421 I have no idea…these people really get hung up over this stuff), which makes the music sound at least a half-tone lower than you’re used to it from any A=440 performance, but to me this is all a moot point. It’s the performance that matters, the feeling and intensity of the playing and singing, not which tuning fork was used.

My lone complaint on packaging is that the booklet does not break down the operas by scenes, thus if you’re skipping ahead to catch a specific aria or scene you’ll have to guess. I’m not sure why they didn’t do this; I’ve seen it in almost every other opera DVD I’ve ever reviewed.

Having now given detailed descriptions of the performances, we reach the point where one rightly expects an endorsement or a rejection. I find myself divided on this issue, however. Audi’s direction, the conducting of Minkowski, and the singing of some, but not all, of the principals are certainly first-rate, but then we are faced with those cluttered staircases and inappropriate costumes (not to mention the substandard singing of Alvaro as Thoas). On the other hand, knowing how much the world (and particularly Europe) is in the thrall, I might even say the iron grip, of Eurotrash, could you really expect to someday see better productions with equally good direction, singing and conducting? The only other Iphigénie en Tauride on DVD is the one originally issued by Kultur in 2006 but now on Arthaus Musik 100377, which features the rather strained singing of Juliette Galstian as Iphigénie and yet another idiotic production, with people in giant masks following or mimicking the principals. Overall, I tolerated the Iphigénie en Tauride better because of the finer costumes and Delunsch’s generally well-focused singing, but you may prefer great audio recordings of these two operas. The best, indeed the only great, recording of the first work is the German-language performance from 1962 with Inge Borkh (Klytemnestra), Christa Ludwig (Iphigénie), James King (Achilles), and Walter Berry (Agamemnon), conducted by Karl Böhm, on Orfeo 428962, while the now-classic Muti recording of the second opera with Carol Vaness, Gösta Winbergh, and Thomas Allen (Sony Classical) is still the benchmark.

FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

This Blu-ray Disc is only playable on Blu-ray Disc players and not compatible with standard DVD players.

Also available on standard DVD

Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio) is a three act opera Singspiel by W. A. Mozart. With libretto by Christoph Friedrich Bretzner, the plot follows the attempt of Belmonte and his servant Pedrillo to rescue his Konstanze from the seraglio of Pasha Selim. This production comes from the Glyndebourne Chorus, and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenmnent conducted by Robin Ticciati. Director David McVicar has strived in this production to give an original-period version of the opera. The costuming from Vicki Mortimer and the sets add to the dazzling performance. “Mesmerising, sensitive, at times troublingly erotic, the whole thing forces us to rethink a remarkable work. Outstanding.” (The Guardian)

Franz Anton Hoffmeister was active in Vienna both as a composer and a publisher, becoming closely associated with Mozart and including works by Beethoven amongst his editions. The combination of violin and cello had its appeal for the amateur market, though Hoffmeister’s Duos Op. 6 include plenty of technical challenges. Conjectured as being from Beethoven’s final years as a young man in Bonn, the three refreshing and inventive Duos for Clarinet and Bassoon are so pleasing that they have appeared in numerous arrangements

A native of Bohemia, Leopold Kozeluch made his name in Vienna, a thriving musical center dubbed the land of the Clavier by Mozart. The sonatas in this volume all appeared in 1784, meeting the challenge of Mozart's popularity head-on. Kozeluch was singularly adept at producing what was considered the ideal fortepiano sonata of the time, his high reputation making him an influential supporter of a new instrument capable of accommodating the clarity, the delicacy, the light and shade he demanded in music.