R E V I E W S:

Die Fledermaus:
When a director and a production team have a concept for an opera production that alters the composer-librettist’s original vision, the results can vary from imaginative to hubristic expressions of a director trying to be unique—or just unusual. The concepts that work best are the ones that retain the integrity of the opera. Such is the case with this DVD of Die Fledermaus derived from performances at Glyndebourne. The action has been moved into the early 20th century, art deco simplicity has replaced 19th-century fussiness. The score remains intact, but the dialogue is new—yet it remains quite faithful to the story line. It was adapted by Stephen Lawless and Daniel Dooner, written in English, and then translated into German by Johanna Mayr. Purists are not likely to be offended by Glyndebourne’s updated Die Fledermaus, and most viewers will probably greatly enjoy this production.

The cast is a talented ensemble that excels not only as musicians but actors as well. Thomas Allen and Pamela Armstrong are wonderful as the Eisensteins. Their comic timing creates characterizations that are in equal measure sophisticated and droll. The act-II seduction with the watch is terrific. Lyubov Petrova makes the most out of Adele, the chambermaid with a mind of her own. Håkan Hagegård is an especially genial Dr. Falke, with intriguing glimpses of the anger prompting the Revenge of the Bat. Pär Lindskog makes a suitably lecherous Afredo. Special kudos to Malena Ernman in the trouser role of Prince Orlofsky. She does a convincing male impersonation complete with bushy mustache.

Udo Samel has the non-singing role of Frosch, the jailer. Frequently the role is assigned to the comedian of the day who pads the third act with a monologue of trademark shtick or topical humor. Mr. Samel introduces himself as Frosch — James Frosch. He admits his banter is intended to cover a scene change; however, this interplay with the audience has been edited from the operetta and appears as part of the Extras.

The biggest liability of Die Fledermaus is the third act. The first act lays the groundwork for the disguises and intrigues in act II. The third act serves as the dénouement, the unmasking after the splashy second-act party...Happily, this Glyndebourne production keeps affairs moving along nicely. The cast maintains the energy level from the first two acts. Quite a feat, since it appears the entire performance was done without intermissions.

Scene designer Benoit Dugardyn has created a clever set on a revolving stage...in this case the set is interesting and adapts quite well to the scenic demands of each act. A rather nifty scene change transforms the Eisenstein home into the Orlofsky ballroom. During the second act, the set frequently revolves, adding interesting dimensions and scenic interest.

Acts I and II and the Entr’acte to act III are on the first disc, act III is on the second disc, along with a number of interesting extra features and interviews. A compliment is due to television director Francesca Kemp and television producer Ross MacGibbon for the excellent transference of a stage production to home video. This video is respectful of the stage production without gimmicky distractions. There is very much a sense of being in the theater while watching....the new Glyndebourne production makes any evening New Years Eve.

David L. Kirk, FANFARE

La cenerentola
This is a conventional production of La cenerentola in most respects. The stage sets are sparsely suggestive rather than literal and detailed, but sufficient. Costumes are excellent, and Peter Hall gets superior comic acting from his principals. Timing and definition of gesture are especially good, with Di Pasquale and Alberghini making the most of their respective parts, minus any distracting add-on gags that all too often disrupt both the work’s rhythm and audience’s attention.


I have one reservation concerning Hall’s production, however: his treatment of the concertato . This Italian operatic convention completely stops the action and allows all characters on stage to express their thoughts simultaneously; which in Rossini’s comic operas invariably means stupefaction and derision. Hall exchanges conventional lighting at these instances for blue scrims, and sets his performers moving and weaving about in odd, slow motion patterns. In theory, this is interesting; in practice, I admittedly found it hard not to laugh at something Hall intended to be taken earnestly. I could only recall Eugene O’Neill’s pretentious 1929 play, Strange Interlude , with its characters given to occasional zombie-like speeches out of time, revealing their thoughts; or to Groucho Marx’s satire on it in the 1930 movie, Animal Crackers : “I see figures . . . strange figures . . . weird figures . . . Steel 186, Anaconda 74, American Can 138 . . .”. Hall’s desire to gussy up each concertato (and there are several, if you count smaller sections of otherwise standard ensembles, as Hall does) with a psychological dimension definitely raised a specter, but I don’t think Rossini had bushy eyebrows, a moustache, and a cigar. It’s possible to work up an academic thesis about the depth and seriousness of anything meant humorously, and the liner notes accompanying this release strive earnestly to accomplish this. But sometimes the light is just that—all light, no shadows; and this composer wasn’t a post-modernist.


Like most other Rossini operas, for many years La cenerentola went unperformed because of changing public tastes that in turn led to an absence of singers who could handle the parts. This was a vicious circle—for a lack of appropriate voices meant a lack of productions, and the absence of productions meant no need to train the voices. What are Rossini voices? They require the same qualities that can be found in other bel canto music: great agility, firm breath support, good enunciation, proper score-reading habits, and schooling in style. All of these qualities can be found in varying degrees in the seven performers who take a major stage part in this La cenerentola . Please note this; because if you ever doubted we’re entering a renewed age of bel canto , then a Rossini production that can boast of three basses, a tenor, two sopranos, and a mezzo, all reasonably fluent in coloratura, is surely as good an indication as any. However, I will single out only Ruxandra Donose for praise. Hers is a dusky mezzo, even in coloration, volume, and support across the registers. The voice is able to handle exacting coloratura without any aspiration or evidence of strain. Her forthright, focused attack in her final aria (“Non più mesta”) brought memories of Marilyn Horne in the 1970s; and like Horne, Donose builds her part from the text, not by working around it. A young singer with little as yet on CD or DVD, she clearly bears watching.


Jurowski is incisive, and alert to his singers’ needs. Sound is available in LPCM stereo and surround sound, while the video is offered in 16:9 anamorphic. Finally, there are subtitles in English, French, German, Spanish, and Italian, as well as one of those bits-and-pieces interviews (entitled “Insights,” just in case you missed what it offered) that tries to sell a darker view of the opera. It doesn’t work, but it also doesn’t matter. This production of La cenerentola was a good one for Rossini, and the audience agreed. I think you will, too.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal


Cosi Fan Tutte
Simply put, this widely praised Glyndebourne production is the Così we’ve been waiting for. Yes, there are plenty of alternatives. But little of the video competition has fared well on these pages. Sometimes the problems stem from the musical performance: the Pritchard-led Glyndebourne predecessor was dismissed as “largely routine” by David Kirk (29:5); the Östman was ruled out of court by Barry Brenesal, who said that the “conducting belonged to the then-new movement that found only three tempos in Mozart operas: fast, faster, fast forward” (30:4). Others were panned because of inadequate production values: Chereau’s “takes itself far too seriously,” according to Brian Robins (30:3); Bob Rose was less charitable still with Hermanns’ “simply rotten” production that, he said, “reveals the producers’ lack of understanding Mozart’s genius” (30:6). Only Muti’s Vienna production (Brenesal 32:3) and Harnoncourt’s from Zurich (Christopher Williams, 30:1) received passing grades.


So what makes this performance stand out? First, the singing of the young cast is uniformly excellent. Or perhaps not quite uniformly: as is the case with her new Susanna in Pappano’s Figaro , Miah Persson is even better than excellent, combining a gorgeous, flexible, and stunningly controlled voice (even in the most challenging coloratura passages) with her by-now familiar depth of dramatic insight. Just listen to (and watch) the solid scorn on “Come scoglio”—or, even better, the subtle variations in mood in her wrenching account of “Per pietà”—and you’ll understand why she’s my favorite Mozart soprano these days.


But the rest of the cast is nearly as good. Anke Vondung holds her own as Dorabella (certainly, a less rich part), and their voices blend extremely well. Topi Lehtipuu and Luca Pisaroni capture the emotional wobbles of the two self-deluded lovers—their ardor, their ungrounded confidence, their fury—with unerring security and luxurious tone. More than most performances, too, this one reveals a key social dynamic: the deception works in part because they’re so much sexier when their costumes allow them to abandon the constraining propriety imposed by the social conventions that normally govern their behavior. Ainhoa Garmendia is a pert, disdainful Despina who doesn’t over-camp the impersonations; and running the show tactfully is Nicholas Rivenq. An unusually attractive Don Alfonso, he’s younger and far more fit than most in this role (he looks as if he just came off the racquet-ball court), and he seems an intellectual without a trace of pedantry; you can really believe that he wants to educate these two naive friends. Iván Fischer conducts with more romantic flexibility than you often get with period-instrument orchestras—and balance (both among the singers and between stage and pit) is finely calibrated. Purely as an audio version, this would stand up to any I’ve heard.


Fortunately, Nicholas Hytner’s production is equally impressive—hardly a false step from beginning to end. In general, this staging takes the opera—arguably, Mozart’s most intellectually challenging—seriously. But the seriousness does not bring solemnity. Hytner may avoid extreme farce, but there’s plenty of wit, energy, and color throughout. More important, he doesn’t condescend to the characters: you can understand both why they’re so foolish and why they’re so torn, and the final shots (where the resolution is clearly only partial) create tremendous poignance. The sets and costumes—simple but far from austere—suggest the late 18th or early 19th century, without creating a very specific moment; and while the production doesn’t ostentatiously update the action, it stresses those aspects of character and situation that still ring true today. One point highlighted here is the bond between the sisters—indeed, one could argue that it’s really Dorabella who seduces Fiordiligi; and while there is nothing louche or tasteless in the presentation of their relationship, it’s obvious that they have a strong erotic link. Not that there’s any lack of heterosexual electricity—as a result, the final scene, where nearly every possible pairing seems highly charged, is as smoldering as any you’ll see. Yet aside from one or two moments, the sex is handled with tact: the performance is hardly prudish, but it’s never aggressive either.


The Blu-ray video quality is stunning: you can see each leaf on the salads that our heroines are eating in act I. The 5.0 channel PCM is excellent as well. And while the extras are nothing special, both the conductor and the director offer intelligent insights into the opera. Two numbers are omitted, No. 7 (the duet “Al fato dan legge”) and No. 24 (Ferrando’s “Ah, io veggio”), but that’s a minor issue. All in all, if this doesn’t make it to my next Want List, we’ve got quite a year in store for us.


FANFARE: Peter J. Rabinowitz

All the world's a joke, says Falstaff, and these words are truly given weight by Ambrogio Maestri, one of the finest Falstaffs of our time. The Italian baritone brings a powerful, versatile voice to his role, but also brings to his character a hilarious buffo quality. Daniele Gatti, one of the most acclaimed opera conductors working today, leads a stunning cast of singers, including Barbara Frittoli as Alice Ford. This boisterous production by stage director Sven-Eric Bechtolf delivers a Falstaff that is a fireworks display of high spirits. "Bechtolf turns Verdi's last opera "musically and dramaturgically into a feast of life and of love of life."

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

Also available on standard DVD

After public and critical acclaim for his Eugene Onegin (available on DVD from BelAir), "Macbeth" on Blu-ray and DVD is the latest production from Russian stage director Dmitri Tcherniakov, recorded at the Paris Opera.

Coproduced with Siberia's Novosibirsk Opera, this new Macbeth uses cutting-edge multimedia technology to give the viewer a fresh perspective on the work. Google Earth satellite images plunge us into the heart of the action: a gloomy square surrounded by soulless buildings, and the interior of an aristocratic residence. Witches are no more a part of Tcherniakov's Macbeth that the duel was of Onegin, but once again the atmosphere is one of brooding claustrophobia. Tcherniakov has chosen a great cast, beginning with the marvellous Lithuanian soprano Violeta Urmana as Lady Macbeth. Greek baritone Dimitris Tiliakos is a powerful presence as Macbeth, while the Italians Ferruccio Furlanetto (bass) and Stefano Secco (tenor) are sumptuous as, respectively, Banquo and Macduff. In this, his second production at the Paris Opera, Teodor Currentzis, music director of the Novosibirsk Opera and Ballet Theatre conducts with verve and a splendid theatrical sense.

Subtitles: English, French, German, Spanish, Italian
Format: Stereo, DTS-HD 5.1, Aspect Ratio: 16:9
Director: Andy Sommer & Denis Sneguirev

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

Also available on standard DVD

Kasper Holten's inaugural production as Director of Opera for The Royal Opera returns to Pushkin's verse novella to reveal the shadows of memory which haunt Tchaikovsky's lyric tragedy. Using doubles to suggest the paths taken, or not taken, by its two impulsive protagonists, Holten gives eloquent voice to the loss and regret that lies at the heart of Eugene Onegin. Simon Keenlyside and Krassimira Stoyanova bring both experience and dynamic energy to the pair of protagonists, while the youthful, 'heartrending' tenor of Pavol Breslik and the idiomatic sweep of Robin Ticciati's 'inspired' conducting (The Independent) were enthusiastically received at the premiere of this visually opulent staging.

Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky
EUGENE ONEGIN

Tatyana – Krassimira Stoyanova
Eugene Onegin – Simon Keenlyside
Olga – Elena Maximova
Lensky – Pavol Breslik
Prince Gremin – Peter Rose
Madame Larina – Diana Montague

Royal Opera House Chorus and Orchestra
Robin Ticciati, conductor

Kasper Holten, stage director

Recorded live at the Royal Opera House, Feburary 2013

Picture format: 1080i High Definition
Sound format: LPCM 2.0 / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Korean
Running time: 154 mins
No. of Discs: 1

The rare biblical opera 'David and Jonathas' is like 'Médée', one of the major works of the French Baroque composer Marc-Antoine Charpentier. The opera has been in the repertoire of Les Arts Florissants since 1988 and was first presented in a stage production by William Christie at the Aix-en-Provence Festival 2012. This DVD release is a special event for all Baroque music lovers.

Written a year after the death of Lully, this lyric tragedy allows Charpentier to develop beyond the religious dimension, a story of male friendship and forbidden love between David and Jonathas. An excellent cast gathered around William Christie and Les Arts Florissants brings young singers to the title roles: Pascal Charbonneau, a tenor and a former student of the European Academy of Music, sings David. The role of Jonathas is given to a woman: soprano Ana Quintans.

The staging by Andreas Homoki (Director of the Zurich Opera since summer 2012) focuses on the psychological aspect of this forbidden love story, giving a moving reading of the drama.

Direction: Andreas Homoki
Scenography: Paul Zoller
Costumes: Gideon Davey
Lighting: Franck Evin

R E V I E W:

Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s lack of official affiliation with the French court’s rather formal musical establishment under Jean-Baptiste Lully had two effects, as I noted in my other review this issue. First, he was free to do other things, and since Lully was not especially interested in sacred music, Charpentier was pretty much left on his own to develop music in the church, which he did in a grand style. As a sideline, he was also freed from the inevitable debate that arose between adherents of the French and Italian styles, for having been trained in Italy, he felt free to dip in and out of both with some alacrity. Second, as someone not under Lully’s sway, his desire to compose for the stage was rather curtailed, since the tragédie lyrique was not something he was able to compose officially. Not until 1693 did his only work in this genre, Medée, come to the stage, notably a number of years after Lully’s death and the implosion of his musical dynasty. In the meantime, he dabbled in the form with a series of Jesuit works for the Collège de Louis-le-Grand, of which David et Jonathas from 1688 was the most “operatic” (though of course he was able to get a number of pastorals and ballets performed at the Opéra). Consisting of the usual five acts and prologue, he altered the form somewhat, interspersing the Divertissement at the beginning and end of each act instead of placing it all in a bunch at the end. Otherwise, the flow of the work pretty much follows that of the normal secular works composed by Lully and others.

Insofar as the plot goes, this seems to have been a gloss on a play by Etienne Chamillart, performed at the same time, which fleshes out the story of the friendship of David and Jonathan. In a prologue, the seer (here called somewhat ironically La Pythonesse instead of the Witch of Endor) foretells Saul’s defeat through the shade of the prophet Samuel. Act One opens with the Philistines, here seemingly dressed in a motley sartorial concoction of djelabas, working clothes with suspenders, and bright red fezzes, cheering on David (sung here by high tenor Paul Charbonneau), while their King, Achis (sung with a resonant bass by Frédéric Caton, dressed like a Grand Mufti), decides to negotiate a truce with Saul (sung in an equally expressive and resonant bass by Neal Davies, dressed in a weskit and working-class pants). This annoys the general of the Philistine army, Joabel (sung in a lighter tenor by Kre?imir ?picer, who is somehow dressed in a strange turban and has a stringy long goatee), who then plots to destroy David. In the meantime, David meets with his friend Jonathas (sung in a pants role by soprano Ana Quintans, who sports a strange intellectual look replete with dark-rimmed glasses). In the Third Act, Saul’s jealousy explodes, and when Achis won’t execute David and Jonathas also refuses, he prepares to abrogate the truce with the Philistines. Jonathas is gravely wounded in the battle that follows, and although filled with remorse, Saul still attempts to kill David, even though mortally wounded himself. When Jonathas dies in David’s arms, David is overcome with despair, and even the proclamation by Achis that David is now the King of Israel fails to cheer him up.

As far as plots for operas go, this one is probably a step up from the usual opera seria or French classical plot of the time, for it contains a great deal of pathos and character development. If there is a moral to the story, it seems rather dispersed among the various turns of the plot. The music is set in a through-composed manner, with recitative and aria flowing easily in and out of each other, and Charpentier’s choice of limiting the dances to the beginnings and ends of each act allows for the plot to develop more smoothly.

Insofar as the music goes, the singing is first-rate and, as expected, William Christie’s venerable Arts Florissants ensemble is virtually flawless in their execution of Charpentier’s rich score. If this was a disc, I would purchase it in an instant. I found it every bit as good if not better than his release back in 1998 on Harmonia Mundi (which was re-released just this past year), and I like it much better than the old Erato recording with Opera Lyon. Unfortunately, it is not, and the reason is the staging. The set is a movable wooden box, with basically a large wood picnic table and chairs for props. The walls are movable, including an awkward moment in the final triumphal chorus scene at the end where the chorus is crowded together as the walls hem them in, looking very much at one moment like the interior of a cattle car. The costumes are also bizarre. The Israelites look very much like refugees from some sort of Russian steppe, sometimes with Hasidic hats, while the Philistines are a mismatched bunch of pseudo-Turkish peasants, looking for all the world like they desperately need both shaves and baths. The principals are not immune to this sartorial faux pas, for Jonathas looks like a bit of a nerd and David a working-class bloke straight from a factory. Even their “friendship” is supposed to heighten the homoerotic story, but Quintans doesn’t really act like a guy, just someone who has cross-dressed. Finally, Neal Davies has been directed to play Saul mostly on his knees, grimacing ferociously into the camera. Even the Pythoness and her hoard of priestesses look like they stepped right out of a rural diner in their checked gingham dresses. Of course, this has nothing to do with Charpentier or his dramatic music, or even the terrific musicality of the vocalists. But for visuals, this is yet another bizarre attempt to “update” the setting by doing something artistically unfathomable. Too bad; the artistry of the performers deserves better.

FANFARE: Bertil van Boer

Angela Gheorghiu, an iconic artist with a beautiful voice and a star quality that dazzles on stage, captivated the world in her role as Tosca, at the Royal Opera House in July 2011. Puccini's ever-popular opera, Tosca, returned to the Royal Opera House, where the stellar cast included Jonas Kaufmann, Bryn Terfel, the Royal Opera Chorus and the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, who were under the baton of Antonio Pappano, the Music Director of the Royal Opera House. With the all-star cast, opera history was in the making and was, by far, the hottest ticket in town. For the majority of US who were not lucky enough to be there, it has been captured on this DVD, exclusively released by EMI Classics. Gheorghiu received much praise and accolades as Tosca. Laura Kate Wilson of Bach track wrote As Gheorghiu delivered the chilling O Scarpia, avanti a Dio! (Oh Scarpia, we shall meet before God!) and that final heart-wrenching refrain rose from the orchestra pit it was clear that opera history had been made, and I felt incredibly lucky to have witnessed it. Rupert Christiansen of the Telegraph added that the velvety smoothness of (Angela Gheorghiu's) line and tone was something to marvel at.

Available for the first time on Blu-ray, the lesser known Verdi opera I due Foscari is ready for appreciation by a new generation. A great cast with the likes of Leo Nucci and Roberto de Biasio is assembled at the Teatro Regio di Parma as part of the 200th anniversary series "Tutto Verdi". FAZ notes "This is how Verdi should be played".

Luciano Pavarotti and Mirella Freni's incomparable partnership as Rodolfo and Mimi, the tragic lovers in Puccini's much-loved bittersweet opera, is captured for posterity in this live recording from the San Francisco Opera. Francesca Zambello's production

When Canadian opera director Robert Carsen produced his intense and cogent staging of Poulenc, Francis's compelling opera Les Dialogues des Carmelites at the Nederlandse Opera in Amsterdam in 2001, it impressed audiences and critics alike, and also gained

Maria Guleghina, Savatore Licitra, Carlo Bosi, Luiz-Ottavio Faria, Leonardo Lopez Linares, Gianluca Bocchino, Saverio Fiore, Giuliano Pelizon, Angel Harkatz Kaufman, and Tamar Iveri star in this Area di Verona production of the Puccini opera.

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

Svetlana Zakharova, Sergei Filin, Gennady Yanin, Maria Aleksandrova (dancers)

Soloists of the Bolshoï Ballet & Orchestra of the Bolshoï Theatre, Alexander Sotnikov

Choreographer: Pierre Lacotte after Marius Petipa.

For the first time in Blu-ray, Bel Air Classiques present Petipa’s extravaganza, The Pharaoh’s Daughter, in the stunning production by Pierre Lacotte. This Russian ballet enjoys a special place in history. Premiered in 1862, this grand spectacle, which lasted four hours and featured a cast of 400, was Petipa’s first truly successful ballet and secured his future in St Petersburg, where he went on to become the most influential choreographer of the 19th century. Until recently, The Pharaoh’s Daughter was also one of Petipa’s lost ballets; it hadn’t been performed since 1928. In 2000 the French choreographer Pierre Lacotte premièred a restored version at the Bolshoi Theatre, after much research into the original, resulting in a shorter although still sumptuous extravaganza. Ballet scenarios don't come much sillier than The Pharaoh's Daughter, which turns on the story of British Egyptologist Lord Wilson who, after a reckless hit of opium, dreams himself back to the time of the pharaohs. Wilson falls in love with Aspicia, the ballet's titular heroine, and when she throws herself into the Nile to avoid being married off to the King of Nubia, Wilson is left to face death by snakebite. Tragedy is averted by the Nile's underwater king who restores Aspicia to Wilson's arms.

"Whatever doubts are raised by Lacotte's choreography, his designs are deliriously extravagant - and with these, at least, we're guaranteed a taste of the blockbusting opulence that enthralled St Petersburg and Moscow 140 years ago." -- Judith Mackrell, The Guardian

Also available on Blu-ray

Ten years after his death, the Paris Opera Ballet payed homage to the American choreographer who considered the Paris Opera as his second home after New York City Ballet. The three pieces performed here illustrate not only the diversity of the choreographer's repertoire and sources of inspiration, but also his love of music and his all-embracing attitude to the performing arts. Jerome Robbins brought new energy to classical dance, introducing 20th century urban rhythms, confirming its status as a modern entertainment form and instilling it with the interrogations of contemporary theatre. En Sol, set to Maurice Ravel's Concerto en sol, follows no particular narrative line or dramatic effect. Echoing the music's jazzy invitations and light-heartedly copying Broadway style, this is a light and joyous piece for two soloists and an ensemble. It provided Jerome Robbins with an opportunity to reveal the relaxed, fluid feel so emblematic of his style.

In the Night and The Concert are two tributes to Frederic Chopin, each in a different register. Seeking to free the composer from the commonplaces that have often belittled his music, Robbins transforms Les Nocturnes into In the Night, a long and poetic pas de deux built like a metaphor of love in all its states. The Concert joins the ranks of the few comic ballets in the history of dance. Taking as its point of departure images inspired by some of Chopin’s more fancifully entitled scores, Jerome Robbins' piano recital is a comic plea for the cause of human vulnerability.

The fact that, at the very same period, he was contributing to the renewal of the musical by bringing a tragic side to his West Side Story, only underlines his insatiable thirst for originality and his immense talent for freely combining genres and styles. Lastly, Benjamin Millepied, who made his dance debut with Robbins in New York, dedicates his second creation for the Paris Opera Ballet, Triade, to the choreographer. "Dance is composed of human relations", Robbins used to say. A worthy heir to his master, Benjamin Millepied matches this credo through a fruitful dialogue with composer Nico Muhly.

R E V I E W:



TRIBUTE TO JEROME ROBBINS • Marie-Agnès Gillot, Florian Magnenet, Laëtitia Pujol, Audric Bezard, Marc Moreau, Clairmarie Osta, Dorothee Gilbert (dancers) • BEL AIR 070 (DVD: 111:00) Live: Paris 9/2008


The Paris Opera Ballet staged these four works in 2008 to honor the 90th anniversary of Jerome Robbins’s birth (he had died 10 years earlier). Robbins had always led a dual existence, one as the most innovative of choreographers for what became known as the American “show” dance style, and also as one of the more innovative choreographers of ballet. He did the former to make money, the latter for his own pleasure, yet they always influenced one another, and in the end Robbins himself influenced such people as Jacques d’Amboise, Lester Horton, and Twyla Tharp. Perhaps the best example of Robbins’s cross-styled choreography here is En Sol, essentially a summertime beach fantasy set to the music of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. Moves that one immediately recognizes as part of our show music lexicon go side by side with traditional ballet moves, postures, and jetées. It’s been thought that Robbins first began to mix his dance metaphors, so to speak, during his stint as a 20-year-old in an artists’ work camp (Tamiment) led by Max Liebman, where he worked with the up-and-coming comedians Danny Kaye and Imogene Coca, though he also came under the wing of Mikhail Fokine about the same time and in 1940 was accepted into the corps de ballet of the newly formed Ballet Theatre.


The level of dancing seen in this film is magnificent. Judging by ballet videos I’ve seen over the past 20 years, what was considered spectacular in 1990 was considered the par for star dancers in 2000, and considered average for members of the corps in 2010. Nearly every ballet company on video, with the exception of the La Scala ballet of Italy, has come so far up in quality that it’s astounding, and Paris seems to be the best of all. I attribute this in part to the groundbreaking work that Rudolf Nureyev did with the company in the mid-to-late 1980s, raising up not only the technical level of dancers but, more importantly, the overall expectation of what the corps could do and a perennial drive to always become better. That, combined with the exceptionally high level of dance training nowadays, has led to most dance companies being able to pull off things that would have been considered extraordinarily difficult a generation ago.


As mentioned, En Sol grabs the eye as much for the mixing of dance metaphors as it does for the way the moves are executed. Male dancers, especially, do leaps that angle the legs in a way that shouts Broadway rather than Fokine or Ashton (although Ashton himself was not entirely immune to Robbins’s work; some of his later ballets incorporate a little of the American’s style). The choreography still looks fresh because it was conceived as timeless, and if the men do many moves that remind one of show dance, the women are far more balletic, being on pointe a great deal of the time and looking as if they should be in tutus even when they’re just in bathing suits. I’m sure there was a time when this choreography was not merely controversial, but annoying to balletomanes, but we are so far past that point that we now simply see it as great 20th-century dance. Regardless of the venue he was working in, Robbins always filled space well, and that is no exception here. In a sense, the star of this ballet is the corps, although danseuse étoile Marie-Agnès Gillot is cast in one of the lead roles.


The second ballet in this set, Triade, is not actually Robbins’s work, but choreography by Benjamin Millepied, who worked closely with the American from the age of 16. The music is also newly minted, a pretty modern score composed by Nico Muhly, and it’s as interesting as the choreography. Millepied describes it as On the Town- influenced, although here we have two male and two female dancers—at least, in the beginning. Toward the end, a third couple suddenly comes out of the wings and joins them on stage. Like Robbins’s own work, Millepied’s ballet is just a generalized dance, showing four people who simply interact out of pure emotion; it “doesn’t tell a story and hardly ever makes a point; it’s just an excuse for talking about human relationships and feelings.” But Millepied pushes the balletic envelope here even further than Robbins did. His dancers swoop and dive on stage, crossing each other to create fascinating patterns despite the minimal number involved. Further, the use of an almost black, night-like set works to his advantage. At one point one of the male dancers, wearing dark slacks, dances with only a pale spotlight on him. The effect is that we focus on his face, hands, and arms, the only flesh-colored items in the spotlight, which create their own unique pattern. The introduction of a third couple in the last stage of the work adds to the ability to fill space, even if it confuses the story somewhat. At one point, a female dancer “sits” on pointe, held only by the arm of her male partner, a gravity-defying stunt. At another, there is an arabesque that appears to be even more incredible than many yoga-inspired positions: A female dancer leans backward on the floor, her knees bent and her body held in a perfect rectangle by just one arm, similarly bent underneath her, leaning on that one elbow. One is reminded how much of modern dance, from the time of the Ballets Russes to the present, is influenced by and incorporates geometric designs. The stars of this production are Gillot, Laëtitia Pujol, Audric Bezard, and Marc Moreau.


Next comes Robbins’s In the Night, one of his purely classic, romantic ballets, set to Chopin nocturnes. Both the costumes and the choreography are more traditional here, with only occasional touches of the show dance style for which Robbins became famous. This could quite easily be the work of Ashton as much as Robbins. Again, the choreography is sparse, centered on six solo dancers who work in pairs; again, it is extremely difficult and challenging dance, requiring each of those six dancers to be an étoile. Even so, the choreography is quietly difficult, most of the technique requiring slow and careful interaction, grace, and delicacy of movement. As a result, the viewer is drawn in to the details of the dance. It lacks the flamboyance and sheer joie de vivre of classic Robbins, yet is much more classical. The dancers are all principals of the company, Clairemarie Osta, Benjamin Pech, Agnes Letestu, Stéphane Buillon, Delphine Moussin and Nicolas le Riche (whom I’ve seen before in other works, and he is outstanding).


The finale of this marvelous evening is one of the very few really comic ballets ever staged, The Concert. When Robbins first presented this back in the 1950s, it was alternately reviled or misunderstood, sometimes by the same people. The liner notes say that it was, to some extent, influenced by the silent film series The Perils of Pauline, but from a late 20th-century perspective, you could really only view those films as unintentional comedy, not melodrama. Moreover, Robbins himself admitted that he tried to make the humor in The Concert as much like cartoons or comic books as possible. There is a very strong feeling of early Mad magazine in this ballet, which begins with an extraordinarily fussy pianist, fiddling with the height of her piano bench and the touch of the keyboard before she even begins playing. (I must interject here that I actually saw a real pianist, in concert, do exactly this kind of fussing around before playing, back in the 1970s.) As she plays Chopin, the members of the audience arrive on stage, one by one, carrying pale blue folding chairs which they quietly unfold and sit on. There is the Male Aesthete, there for the artistic “meaning” of it all; two women who sit behind him, comically crossing their legs in exaggerated ballet style, who immediately open their handbags to fish out hard candy to suck on; the Female Aesthete, so Devoted to Art that she has to sit right by the piano, one elbow in the cabinet of the instrument, soaking it all in like a sponge; the Art (Ms.) Androgyne in her horn-rimmed glasses and wide male-styled stride, who sits right behind the Female Aesthete; and the “odd couple” consisting of the woman who wants to be there and the husband who couldn’t care less. The latter is so bored by it all that he pulls out a newspaper and starts reading. (Since this is France, of course the paper is Le Figaro! )


But confusion is right around the corner. An usher arrives, checking people’s tickets, and discovering that most of the audience is in the wrong seats. A highly amusing round of musical chairs ensues, including one moment when Ms. Androgyne pulls the chair right out from under the rear of the Female Aesthete, who is so wrapped up in the piano that she never notices, but continues to sit in midair, her feet on pointe! The menfolk then carry the womenfolk (now dressed in tutus) on stage, where they engage in an “improvised” ballet of their own. Of course, some of them are purposely out of step, the worst being Ms. Androgyne (still in her horn-rimmed glasses as well as a tutu), who keeps ending her turns on the outside of the group, facing the wrong way. Eventually they pull each other together in a semblance of unity to take their final bow, though one dancer in the right rear still has her arms curved the wrong way for even that!


More comedy ensues, particularly from the Married Couple. There’s one bit where the wife is sitting, watching the pianist, while the husband sneaks up behind her with a knife, but it does no damage—it’s only a rubber prop. He pushes on it, assures himself that it’s soft rubber, then pokes himself in the stomach with it, only to have it penetrate him as he limps offstage. In another bit the husband, still with a cigar in his mouth, cavorts about the stage in a goofy-looking butterfly costume, appearing for all the world like Groucho Marx in a ballet. He is, of course, joined by the Female Aesthete, with whom he does a romantic dance until the Wife suddenly returns and breaks it up. This sort of thing goes on until the end, and it is obvious that Robbins was having great fun with this piece.


Naturally, the audience falls out laughing at this, and there is a tremendous roar of applause at the end. Somehow, I can’t help but feel that Robbins’s own spirit was there that night. You almost hoped he would come out from the wings and take a bow; he certainly deserved it!


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Musicians and critics realized soon after it's 1829 Paris Opéra premiere that Rossini's Guillaume Tell was a far-reaching masterpiece. And yet some of the features that made it so unique have militated against it entering the standard repertory. The 1992 critical edition made a "complete" Guillaume Tell, even an ur-Tell possible, but still not many companies have performed the work without substantial cuts. The first complete DVD release of the work's original version finds the Rossini in Wildbad Festival, celebrating it's 25th anniversary, performing Tell for the first time in it's entirety.

In this celebrated Glyndebourne Festival production, David Hockney’s designs for director John Cox reinterpret the Hogarth etchings that inspired the opera’s libretto, written for Stravinsky by W.H. Auden and Chester Kallman. In 2010, this revival under Glyndebourne’s Music Director, Vladimir Jurowski, captured the opera’s neo-classical spirit and its juxtaposition of whimsy, cynicism and compassion, prompting the Financial Times to call it,‘‘as enjoyable a performance of Stravinsky’s opera as any that has come along".

Recorded live at the Glyndebourne Opera House 18–19 December 2010

Bonus:
- Documentary includes an interview with David Hockney
- Introduction to the Rake’s Progress

• Picture format: NTSC 16:9
• Sound format: LPCM 2.0 / DTS 5.1
• Region code: 0 (worldwide)
• Subtitles: English, French, German, Dutch, Japanese, Korean
• Running time: 140 mins
• No. of DVDs: 1
  

REVIEW:

Nick Shadow speaks directly to the audience in Act 2, which justifies his winking and gurning at them at various points throughout, usually to show what a dupe his master is, and always to delicious comic effect. His costume, and in particular his hairdo, is ridiculous, yet strangely disquieting. Matthew Rose plays the part to the hilt, making clear from his very first scene that Tom is a pushover and that Anne is where the danger lies. He manages adeptly the comic aspects of the role, at least as far as the graveyard scene, when everything changes. It’s possible to imagine a darker voice for Shadow, but I find his assumption totally convincing. Topi Lehtipuu as Tom is very fine too. He captures very well indeed Tom’s love for Anne, which is genuine and will be his salvation, but which he abandons by weakness of will. Miah Persson is adorable as Anne. She brings out beautifully the vulnerability of the character, but crucially she has brilliantly understood the steely determination present in Anne’s music, and acts it out, both physically and vocally, to perfection. The smaller roles are beautifully taken, and the chorus sings and acts splendidly. Time and again I was struck, as never before, by the sheer beauty of the sound of this work, and the orchestra plays magnificently under the inspiring direction of Vladimir Jurowski.

There are other performances of The Rake’s Progress on DVD, including an earlier incarnation of this same production, finely sung but now superseded technically. Then there is the production from La Monnaie in Brussels, garishly updated to 1950s America. Rapturously received in many quarters, you are likely to love it or hate it. Either way, there is no question, this life-enhancing DVD from Glyndebourne is truly special and not to be missed.

-- MusicWeb International

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



J. STRAUSS II Die Fledermaus • Vladimir Jurowski, cond; Pamela Armstrong ( Rosalinde ); Thomas Allen ( Eisenstein ); Håkan Hagegård ( Dr. Falke ); Pär Lindskog ( Alfred ); Malena Ernman ( Prince Orlovsky ); Lyubov Petrova ( Adele ); Ragnar Ulfung ( Dr. Blind ); Artur Korn ( Frank ); Udo Samel ( Frosch ); Reneé Schüttengruber ( Ida ); Glyndebourne Ch; London PO • BBC/OPUS ARTE 7004 (Blu-ray Disc: 198:00) Live: Glyndebourne 8/17/2003


& Cast & costume galleries. The Genesis of the Waltz. The Architect Returns. Interviews. Frosch interlude


This pretty-much-perfect production of Strauss’s pretty-much-perfect operetta is an ideal specimen to demonstrate the visual and sonic virtues of the Blu-ray medium. The Glyndebourne staging is a feast to watch: the sets and costumes are lavish, the dancing accomplished. Opus Arte’s 24-bit PCM sound is way better than anything you’ve ever heard on a traditional DVD, both the stereo version and the spacious multichannel that puts the listener in the middle of the appreciative audience who experienced the real thing in Sussex back in August of 2003.


Director Stephen Lawless has moved the setting of Die Fledermaus ahead a few decades to around 1910, the Vienna of Sigmund Freud and Gustav Klimt. (Eisenstein’s dressing gown, in fact, is a facsimile of Klimt’s The Kiss .) This Fledermaus is clearly viewed as a play that happens to have awfully good music, and Lawless and Daniel Dooner have created new dialogue for the production. In the hands of an ensemble of terrific singing actors, the texts never impede the headlong momentum of this comic masterpiece.


What a cast! Pamela Armstrong, as Rosalinde, handles the part vocally quite well but is equally concerned with her character’s development: when she dresses up as someone else, Eisenstein’s wife discovers her “real self” (as the soprano puts it in one of the disc’s “extras”). Thomas Allen notes that the high tessitura of his role was a bit of a challenge—it sure doesn’t sound it—but his comic timing is impeccable and the man can actually dance. As Dr. Falke, Håkan Hagegård gives his character an edge: the practical joke that Eisenstein played on him months before the curtain rises for act I has deeply wounded him, and Falke is serious about getting revenge. Singing Alfred in an appropriately seductive manner is Swedish tenor Pär Lindskog who, like Allen, is obviously quite a versatile artist. You’d never know from this performance that the guy also sings Siegfried and Parsifal.


The kudos go on. Lyubov Petrova’s rendition of Adele’s big second-act aria is a showstopper and Malena Ernman is utterly convincing as the terminally bored and sexually ambiguous Orlovsky. It’s a surprise every time Ernman starts to sing and her voice jumps up an octave or two. The smaller parts—Dr. Blind, Frank, Ida, Frosch—are all covered quite well.


Vladimir Jurowski takes the music very seriously (as, the notes remind us, did Gustav Mahler) and his leadership of the LPO is spirited and knowingly inflected. To accompany the curtain calls, Jurowski conducts a rousing “Radetzky March.” Opus Arte provides subtitles in English, French, German, Spanish, and Dutch. There’s a generous supply of extras, including cast and costume “galleries” and brief featurettes on the history of the waltz and the new (in 1994) opera house at Glyndebourne, as revisited by the architect who designed it. We also get observations on Fledermaus from Armstrong, Allen, Hagegård, Jurowski, and director Lawless and, to close, some shtick, mostly about champagne, by Udo Samel, the actor who has the speaking role of the jailer Frosch.


Yes, this one’s on my Want List.

FANFARE: Andrew Quint


Picture Format: 1080i High Definition, NTSC 16:9
Sound Format: 2.0 / 5.0 PCM Audio
Region Code: 0 (All Regions)
Menu Languages: English
Subtitles: English, French, German, Spanish, Dutch
Running Time: 198 min

This ballet in 2 acts and 6 scenes was created by George Balanchine to music by Mendelssohn based on a story by Shakespeare. The Pacific Northwest Ballet performs with the BBC Concert Orchestra, Cynthia Fleming, Libby Crabtree, and Judith Harris.

Miah Persson, Topi Lehtipuu, Clive Bayley, Matthew Rose, Susan Gorton, Elena Manistina, Graham Clark, and Duncan Rock star in this Glyndebourne proudction of the Stravinsky opera conducted by Vladimir Jurowski and directed by John Cox, with David Hockney.