VERDI Otello • Riccardo Muti, cond; Aleksandrs Antonenko (Otello); Krassimira Stoyanova (Desdemona); Carlo Guelfi (Iago); Juan Francisco Gatell (Cassio); Barbara Di Castri (Emilia); Eric Owens (Lodovico); Chicago SO & Ch • CSO RESOUND 9011301 (2 SACDs: 135:57 Text and Translation)
Riccardo Muti’s Otello derives from three concert performances given at Chicago’s Orchestra Hall in 2011. The recording combines the excitement of a live performance with the virtues of an excellently engineered studio effort that brilliantly captures orchestral and choral detail within a huge dynamic range. CSO Resound provides a booklet that includes essays and a libretto, and there’s no applause or audience sound.
Muti’s masterful conducting of Verdi’s greatest tragic opera would make this an important Otello to hear even if it weren’t for its generally strong vocal performances. In the first act’s storm and sequence of choruses, Muti’s slightly restrained tempos resemble Fürtwangler’s more than the forward momentum of Kleiber or Toscanini, but he generates taut excitement through control of dynamics, precise rhythm, and steady, logical pacing. The Chicago Symphony, which performed the opera under Solti, plays wonderfully well. Throughout the performance, Muti has the orchestra make subtle differences in articulation from what one traditionally hears.
A unique feature of this recording is the inclusion of a rarely heard revision of the busy ensemble that closes act III that Verdi made for a Paris production in 1894, seven years after Otello’s La Scala premiere. The last operatic music that Verdi composed, its musical and dramatic quality is equal to that of the more familiar concertato, but its increased clarity allows Iago’s asides to be heard more clearly.
Aleksandrs Antonenko sang Otello with Muti conducting (with a different Iago and Desdemona) in Salzburg in 2008, and judging from the excerpts that I’ve seen of that performance, he improved significantly by the time of the Chicago performances. He has the right (and rare) heroic voice for Otello, and he sings musically and technically well, with comfortable-sounding Italian in a performance that begins strongly, but gains conviction in the two final acts. While he doesn’t yet imprint the role with the kind of distinctive personality that its greatest interpreters have done, singing and acting Otello tends to be a career-long process, and Antonenko sings the part far better than Cura, Galouzine, Botha, or Heppner, to name some other tenors who have undertaken the role, A.D. (After Domingo). It remains to be seen whether Jonas Kaufmann can summon the vocal power to sing the part live, but the two Otello excerpts on his recent Verdi recital are a very promising sign that perhaps, not too long from now, two castable Otellos (Kaufmann and Antonenko) may walk the earth.
The wobble in baritone Carlo Guelfi’s delivery of Iago’s first line, “È infranto l’artimon,” warns of vocal trouble, and it turns out that he lacks the required power and the ability to sing sustained notes in the drinking song, and more importantly, in the Credo. Actually, Guelfi does well with the lighter, insinuating side of of Iago’s music, such as the dialogue with Roderigo in act I, and much of act III. There’s pleasure to be had in hearing an Italian baritone in the role, but a successful Iago must be able to really sing, not just do well with role’s parlando aspects. Many a worthy Otello recording has been undermined by odd casting of Iago; I’m thinking of Fischer-Dieskau, Schöffler, Glossop, and Leiferkus. Then there are baritones whose voices are right, but whose characterizations are insufficient: Protti, Capuccilli, even Milnes. Giuseppe Valdengo, in Toscanini’s recording, demonstrates what’s possible in a performance that’s both magnificently characterized and beautifully sung.
An experienced Desdemona, Krassimira Stoyanova gives a strong performance, singing with focused, lovely tone, if not achieving the poignancy of the greatest Desdemonas in act IV: Tebaldi, Freni, de los Angeles. The smaller parts are all efficiently performed, with no particular singer standing out.
Defining what makes a great performance of Otello is straightforward. The opera requires an authoritative, exciting conductor, plus three perfectly cast singers. Good sound is a bonus, but not essential. Del Monaco and Domingo are each essential Otellos to hear, but I think of their many performances as a composite and wouldn’t single out any one particular recording. I’m particularly fond of the espressivo quality that Ramon Vinay and Jon Vickers bring to the role, and recommend the Met video with Vickers, MacNeil, and Scotto, conducted by Levine. Toscanini’s recording is thrilling, though not expansive enough in some of the opera’s lyrical music. I enjoy Solti’s first recording, with the under-appreciated Otello of Carlo Cossuta and beautiful singing by Margaret Price. But the greatest recorded Otello that I know—indeed one of the greatest of all preserved operatic performances—is the 1938 Met broadcast, conducted not only with manic energy, but with uncommon flexibility and imagination, by Ettore Panizza. Giovanni Martinelli’s splendid Otello and Elizabeth Rethberg’s Desdemona are the important interpretations of their day, and Lawrence Tibbett’s is the greatest recorded portrayal of Iago.
Virtuosity was as intricate issue in the late Baroque period. On one hand, the public attending the concert demanded to be overwhelmed by the performers' technique. On the other hand, virtuosity provided imitation and often revelaed composers' command over their craft. Composers were expected to supply a piece that showcased an artists entire "bag of tricks" including special effects and specific skills. Handel and Vivaldi did not allow the circumstances of the day to hinder their inspiration. The ensemble Barrocade, along with Claire Meghnagi and Shai Kribus showcase Handel and Vivaldi's virtuosic works of their day.
Verdi almost called his Egyptian opera Amneris, and it is this proud, calculating but vulnerable character who often stays in the mind at the end of a performance of Aida; she is the one who travels the greatest emotional distance over the course of the opera and with the right interpreter she can steal the show from the slightly self-obsessed lovers.
There is little known about the composition of Zaide; Mozart rarely mentions it in correspondence of the period. We do know that he began work on it in 1779-80 but stopped composing after 15 numbers had been completed. Perhaps it was because there was no prospect of a production; perhaps he was left at a creative loss by the fact that the hero and heroine--Zaide and Gomatz--are romantically attracted to each other and at the opera's close turn out to be brother and sister. More likely, a commission from Munich for Idomeneo arrived, and it was a far grander proposition. When Joseph II asked Mozart for a new Singspiel after Idomeneo, the composer looked at Zaide again but decided instead on a work with a similar plot and Turkish atmosphere, Die Entführung aus dem Serail.
Zaide is a far simpler work than Entführung. The orchestration is less complex, the arias less ornate; indeed, had it been completed it would have been a type of "popular" entertainment that Mozart later validated with Die Zauberflöte--essentially a spoken play with songs--but not as rich. But several of the 15 numbers that were composed are top-drawer Mozart--utterly charming, gentle, fervent--and you could argue that the aria "Ruhe sanft" is his most beautiful for soprano voice. Furthermore, it is the only work of Mozart's to include melodrama--text spoken over music that more-or-less underlines the words' feelings--an odd practice whose most famous examples are found in the dungeon scene of Beethoven's Fidelio and the Wolf's Glen Scene in Der Freischutz.
There have been several recordings of the opera: One (which I've not heard) dates from a 1956 broadcast and stars Fritz Wunderlich and Maria Stader; a 1982 recording under Leopold Hager (on Orfeo) is heavy-handed and lacks charm; one led by Bernhard Klee in the complete Mozart Edition on Philips is prosaic and lacks any real sense of drama; another features Paul Goodwin leading a terrific performance with fleet tempos, youthful energy, and warmth (on Harmonia Mundi), with the lovely Lynne Dawson as Zaide. This new DHM set, recorded at concert performances in Vienna in March, 2006, has a great deal to recommend it and is now the recording of choice--but there is a serious caveat.
The caveat, which I'll explain below, has little to do with the leadership of Nikolaus Harnoncourt. Aside from a weirdly slow "Ruhe sanft" (he might have just been bathing in the beauty of Diana Damrau's voice and is to be forgiven for such an indulgence), tempos are un-eccentric, and his Concentus Musicus Wien plays with alternating grace and potency, able to pull out all the stops, say, in Soliman's entrance and Zaide's rage aria in the second act. Mozart supplied no overture, and Harnoncourt wisely uses the similarly scored K. 184.
In addition, the cast is terrific. As suggested above, Damrau is lovely and endlessly interesting as Zaide, the Sultan Soliman's favorite, and her sweetness and sadness are as effective as her fury. Michael Schade as Gomatz, enslaved by Soliman, gets to express his outrage well, and he's very fine indeed. Soliman is another tenor role, and Rudolf Schasching attacks it with vehemence, only occasionally overdoing the teeth-gnashing. Allazim, a Muslim convert from Christianity who lives at the Palace and decides to escape with the others, is sung nicely by baritone Florian Boesch, and he makes the most of this conflicted character. Anton Scharinger sings the bass role of Osmin with the right combination of menace and humor.
Now for the caveat. The unfinished work "ends" with a quartet in which the Muslim Soliman is about to kill Zaide and Gomatz, while Allazim, disappointed in Soliman, pleads for their lives. No happy ending is in sight. It is impossible not to draw comparisons with today's Christians vs Muslims political climate, but in case we missed it, for these performances a text has been written and performed by the Austrian actor Tobias Moretti. It starts and ends the action and is inserted occasionally between numbers, adding about 25 minutes to the opera. It begins with some genuinely nasty exchanges heard at the last Republican Party Convention and continues with a discussion about freedom, the Enlightenment, class distinctions. In between numbers it explains the action, often in very modern slang, which could pass for "hip" if it weren't so obtrusively self-conscious, and it closes the opera, after the vicious, pessimistic quartet (a great piece of music, by the way), by wondering what the conclusion will be: "A military intervention, perhaps, a bush fire for liberty and culture"? Very clever, and We Get It, We Get It; it's a point well-taken, even if it has no place vis-a-vis Mozart's unfinished opera. It then goes on to philosophize.
But here's something even more bothersome: Moretti's opening remarks include a discussion of freedom of worship, spirit, and thought, "the latter something Thomas Mann recommended to the Germans once more after 1945, as they had mislaid it..." As long as Moretti is pointing a well-placed finger, would he like to say a few words about his fellow Austrians' involvement in mislaying freedom while the Germans were doing the same thing? Or do politics of that sort have no place in the Musikverein? My advice: Listen to the wonderfully performed music and use your remote control to avoid the lecture.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s beloved book has been with us for more than 60 years, a staple of French language classes in the English-speaking world, and of the night stands of young people of the more philosophical sort. It’s an elusive story, easier to feel than to explain, and it takes a light touch to translate it, to say nothing of adapting it for another medium. (Others have tried.) This new “children’s opera” has been performed in Houston and in New York City, and televised by the BBC. It is the latter studio production that has been simultaneously released by Sony Classical on DVD and CD. Oxford-educated Rachel Portman has been writing film scores since the early 1980s; these include The Cider House Rules, Sense and Sensibility, The Human Stain, and the Emmy-winning Emma. Unlike many of her contemporaries, she prefers acoustic instruments to electronics, and her scores are warm, emotional, and human. She was a good choice for The Little Prince. The libretto was prepared by Nicholas Wright, who more or less managed to retain the original’s flavor without too much saccharine. (Lines such as “Anything essential is invisible to the eye” and “Eyes are blind, look only with your heart” are bound to get the cynics groaning, however.) Thousands of children were auditioned for the title role and for the ensemble. (This process is featured in a 13-minute “Blue Peter” special, which is a bonus on the DVD.) Maria Bjørnson’s sets and costumes are faithful to Saint-Exupéry’s vision.
Although The Little Prince is not an instant classic, it’s heartening proof that integrity and sensitivity still exist in the music business. Portman’s music is touching, and it is of the proper scale for the story. One must remark, however, that her score is not ideally varied over the course of the opera, and that her experience as a film composer is more noticeable than her skill as a composer for the voice. Kudos to her anyway for not talking down to her potential audience, and for not cheapening the material with “pop” inflections. Indeed, what Poulenc or Britten might have done with this story—and it would have been a natural for them—is not so different from what Portman has done, within her own style. Again, her score perfectly captures the book’s childlike wonder and—for the lack of a better phrase—its tough sweetness.
The casting seems perfect. In the title role, serious little Joseph McManners looks and sings like an angel, but there’s not a trace of specious cuteness or sentimentality in his portrayal. But really, it would be invidious to single him out, given the warm and dedicated performances by Teddy Tahu Rhodes, White, Garrett, and others. (Aled Jones, himself an accomplished boy soprano in days gone by, sings the brief role of the Drunkard.) All soloists have perfect diction, rendering the libretto unnecessary. (The chorus doesn’t enunciate quite that well, unfortunately.) Francesca Zambello’s direction stays out of the way of the story, enhancing its simplicity and creating a space in which one’s imagination can fly.
The CDs are a little longer than the DVD. Apparently there was a 90-minute limit on what could be broadcast by the BBC, so cuts amounting to a few minutes in total—nothing disfiguring—were made. I guess this means that if you fall in love with The Little Prince, you’ll want both—the DVD so you can see it all, and the CDs so you can hear it all.
Call me a pessimist, but I think The Little Prince—the book and the opera—probably is too thoughtful and too uneventful for today’s younger children, reared as they are on video games and other instant gratifications. If you know an emotionally or musically talented high schooler, however, he or she might fall in love with it. Failing that, I am sure there’s many an adult who would enjoy The Little Prince, with or without children of his or her own.
Handel: Atalanta / Mcgegan, Labelle, Ryden, Slattery, Van De Sant
Philharmonia Baroque Productions
CD
$29.99Jul 15, 2015
The fireworks on this live recording from 2005, featuring the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra led by Nicholas McGegan, are definitely of the vocal variety.
"Nobody does baroque better than Nicholas McGegan and his Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra. And nobody does Handel better than McGegan and the PBO, either. So, there's no wonder the team do such a good job with Handel's Atalanta." -- John J. Puccio, Classical Candor
"Magnificent...the most vibrant, exhilarating stretch of musical showmanship this organization has offered in many a long season. Not since a decade ago have Philharmonia audiences witnessed a performance so deep, so affecting or so rich in musical splendor." -- San Francisco Chronicle
"It is a particular joy to see a peformance such as this, utilising many of the dramatic and musical conventions of the eighteenth century, but with more than a nod towards modern sensibilities, especially when the score is as full of glories as Atalanta, and when performed this well." -- Sandra Bowdler, The Opera Critic
The music of South America, steeped in sultry passion, irresistible dance rhythms and melancholic reflection is a unique challenge for the vocal and interpretive abilities of a great singer. Rojotango promises to reveal new facets of Erwin’s sensuously dark, chocolaty voice.
The imaginative and intriguing repertoire features a varied and exciting selection of passionate tangos by Astor Piazzolla, Pablo Ziegler and Juan Carlos Cobian as well as a number of evocative Argentinean and Brazilian folk songs.
"Magnificently devilish, charming and irresistible." - The New York Times
"He sang and acted rings around everyone else, showing a gorgeous, dark, versatile bass. Young, hyperkinetic and hunky, he is a boring singer’s nightmare." - Opera News
