SOFTLY, SOFTLY: THE SINGLES COLLECTION 1954-62

"Urgently eloquent." -- Gramophone [4/1987]

"Concentrated expressive intensity." -- Gramophone [11/1990]

"The Wanderer Fantasy is one of Schubert's most striking architectural achievements, and Perahia's intellectually rewarding account of it offers a vivid portrayal of the music's constantly evolving thematic structure." -- Gramophone [10/1995]

This is surely the greatest, certainly the richest, of all Murray Perahia's many and exemplary recordings.

This Chopin recital represents Murray Perahia's return to the Sony studios after a two-year absence due to serious injury. So may I start by saying that this is surely the greatest, certainly the richest, of all his many and exemplary recordings. Once again his performances are graced with rare and classic attributes and now, to supreme clarity, tonal elegance and musical perspective, he adds an even stronger poetic profile, a surer sense of the inflammatory rhetoric underpinning Chopin's surface equilibrium. In other words the vividness and immediacy are as remarkable as the finesse. And here, arguably, is the oblique but telling influence of Horowitz who Perahia befriended during the last months of the old wizard's life. Listen to the First Ballade's second subject and you will hear rubato like the most subtle pulsing or musical breathing. Try the opening of the Third and you will note an ideal poise and lucidity, something rarely achieved in these outwardly insouciant pages.

Then there is the glorious Fourth and final Ballade in a performance as subtly gauged as any on record. Here Perahia achieves a fluidity of line and impetus that never compromise or sacrifice his sense of superfine and exploratory detail; and what other pianist possesses such an acute aural and rhythmic sensitivity? From Perahia the waltzes are marvels of liquid brilliance and urbanity. You would have to return to 1950 and Lipatti (EMI, 7/89) for a comparable quality though, frankly, even he hardly achieved such an enchanting lilt or buoyancy, such a beguiling sense of light and shade. In the mazurkas, too, Perahia's tiptoe delicacy and tonal irridescence (particularly in Op. 7 No. 3 in F minor) make the music dance and spin as if caught in some magical hallucinatory haze.

Finally, two contrasting Etudes, and whether in ardent lyricism (Op. 10 No. 3) or shot-from-guns virtuosity (Op. 10 No. 4) Perahia's playing is sheer perfection. The recording beautifully captures his instantly recognizable, glistening sound world as well as the immense grandeur of his conceptions. Rarely in my experience has such a truly transcendental pianism (he has every tint and colour of the spectrum at his fingertips) and such innate poetry been so unforgettably combined. Welcome back Murray Perahia; you have been sorely missed.

-- Bryce Morrison, Gramophone [12/1994]

Edward Elgar at Woolsey Hall

A decade or so ago, a recital of Franck and Liszt from Murray Perahia might have caused some surprise. But one of the most refreshing things about this artist is his growing refusal to be typecast. The Franck (like all but two of the Liszt pieces) was recorded at The Maltings in Snape, a venue he knows and likes so well. This I enjoyed for its stylish reminders of the composer's long devotion to the Church—i.e. for a strain of simple devoutness, free from all heart-on-sleeve emotionalism, with which he invests the first two movements. The central choral is allowed an easy flow, and I liked his dynamic restraint in the first two statements of the chorale theme itself so as to leave plenty in reserve for the characteristically Franckian emergence from darkness into light as the work progresses. Discreet pedalling ensures that texture never clots in the fugue, and the homecoming is truly joyous.

The rest of the 60 minutes go to Liszt, and here my only slight (but only very slight) disappointment came in the Mephisto Waltz, recorded in UCLA's Royce Hall in Los Angeles. Needless to say it is played with all Perahia's customary command, finesse and what I can only describe as aristocratic musical discernment. Yet I still felt that just that last touch of devilry was missing on the dance-floor (even more piquant accentuation might perhaps have helped), and likewise the ultimate in lingering sensuous seduction in Liszt's "lascivious, caressing dreams of love". For the rest I have nothing but praise—starting with the cutting intensity Perahia brings to the melodic line in Petrarch's tale of unrequited love ("Sonetto 104"). By comparison, Louis Lortie on Chandos (in a less forward and less sharp-cut sounding recent Maltings recording) seems to shrink from this sonnet's acutest disquiet and pain—such as in the passage marked agitato, and then crescendo and rinforzando from about 3'46"-4'17" in track 5 of Perahia's disc. Perahia's liquidity in "Au bard d'une source" and shimmering whispers in the first Concert Study, "Waldesrauschen" (as spacious as Arrau's—now part of the Philips Arrau Edition) are wholly ravishing as sound per se, while "Gnomenreigen" in its turn brings reminders of that delicately scintillating brilliance that always gave him a place apart when gambol ling with Mendelssohn in concerto finales. His range of keyboard colour in the concluding Rhapsodic espagnole (the second and finer of Liszt's pair) is as ear-catching as are his rhythmic spring, his teasing caprice and his exuberant climaxes.

Full marks to his engineers for so faithfully capturing so wide a dynamic range—and, incidentally, to Sony for including so generously spacious a booklet (with full quotations from Lenau, Petrarch and Schiller).

-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone [10/1991]

Includes work(s) by Mark-Anthony Turnage. Ensemble: B. B. C. Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: Leonard Slatkin. Soloists: Evelyn Glennie, Peter Erskine, Christian Lindberg, Timothy [horn] Brown, Michael Murray, Christopher Larkin, Andrew Antcliff.

For its very first excursion on Chandos, the Crouch End Festival Chorus presents a landmark recording of J.S. Bach's St. John Passion sung in English - the first for over forty-five years. With communicative zeal, beautiful articulation, and focused energy, this choir of more than 100 voices lends precision and power to the performance alongside the instruments of the Bach Camerata, one of the finest UK baroque orchestras, all under the inspired direction of David Temple. The essence of the work is the conveying of a human story underpinned by the universal themes of love, betrayal, loss, and hope. The performance in English allows the drama and visceral energy of the work to go straight to the heart of the English-speaking listener. The narrative is immediately understood, and the power of the storytelling imbues Bach's music with extra freshness and meaning. Thanks to an array of superb soloists and orchestral musicians, the new recording brings those qualities together in a performance which will present a well-loved piece in a completely new light, and appeal to existing and future generations of music-lovers alike.

-----

REVIEW:

One will struggle to find more committed, well-balanced, agile and crisp singing than that of the Crouch End Festival Chorus, who are on top form throughout. Frankly none of the soloists could be bettered, nor the superb continuo team. Congratulations to all concerned on producing such a buoyant, absorbing, and sonically thrilling recording.

– Gramophone

This is the second volume in Chandos’s series devoted to the masses of Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778–1837), following on a stirring recording of masses in D and B flat (CHAN 0681). The only competition for this E??Mass with which I am familiar is a Koch Schwann recording led by Martin Haselbock (317792) and I find somewhat more energy and an improved sense of shaping here from Hickox.

The problem for me is that this is decent, good, pleasant music—but not more than that. I find a bit more of a creative spark in the two masses on the earlier recording, but to my ears, none of this music has about it the originality and depth of Hummel’s best piano music. When one hears one of his piano concertos (particularly those in B Minor and A Minor), one hears a distinctive voice—music that stays in the memory after the sounds have ended. His piano music may not have about it the greatness of stature of Beethoven or Chopin (between whom he was an interesting stylistic bridge), but it is music of presence, music of immediate appeal and lasting impact. To my ears, at least, the same cannot be said for his religious music.

The E flat?Mass was composed in 1804, and is apparently one of the first important works by the composer after he became Konzertmeister at the Esterhazy court, taking over the Kapellmeister title after Haydn’s death in 1809. (Hummel left the court in 1811, and was not replaced—the beginning of the end of the importance of music at the court). Hummel was considered by contemporaries to be one of the most important musicians of his time, and he was a prolific composer in many forms. But when set against the religious choral works of Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, and even Schumann or Mendelssohn, the music on this disc pales, its impression evaporating almost immediately after it sounds.

The strongest work is actually the Gradual “Quod in orbe,” probably written for the Esterhazy court in 1806. It is scored for chorus and orchestra (no soloists), and has an energy and spark about it that raises it above the rest of the music here. The weakest music is found in the Te Deum, a 10-minute piece that even Chandos’s annotator describes as “one dimensional.”

Hickox does all he can with the music, shaping it tautly and eliciting involved, spirited singing and playing. The soloists are excellent, Chandos’s recorded sound is what we’ve come to expect from the company—rich, warm, reverberant, but not muddy. Informative notes and full texts accompany the disc.

Henry Fogel, FANFARE

With this new release Edward Gardner and the BBC Symphony Orchestra continue their critically acclaimed series exploring Polish music for Chandos. It features two large scale works by Karol Szymanowski, the expressive Stabat Mater and the vigorous and colorful ballet Harnasie. The Stabat Mater, recorded here in its 1965 revised version, features a cast of internationally acclaimed soloists: Lucy Crowe, Pamela Helen Stephen, Robert Murray and Gabor Bretz.

These are outstanding performances, as good or better than the composer's own. Edward Gardner tears into the Four Sea Interludes with uninhibited excitement. It's great to hear the high violins and flutes in "Dawn" swooping and soaring like the gulls that they're supposed to be evoking. "Sunday Morning" has an infectious bounce, while "Moonlight" casts a rapt stillness abruptly shattered by perhaps the most vicious storm on disc. It's one of those versions you will listen to and say, "Finally, that's the way it should go!"

The suite from Gloriana is still a comparative rarity, which is a pity, as the music really is first-rate Britten. But then, so is the opera; why anyone cares that it flopped at its premiere is beyond me (the Queen allegedly was not amused, as if her opinion matters). The Lute Song is very nicely sung by Robert Murray, but the version for oboe rather than voice strikes me as more appropriate within the context of the symphonic suite as a whole. Granted, Britten used Peter Pears, but that was an opportunity for him to give his partner something to do while on tour.

Finally, there's the Cello Symphony: a tough, somewhat gnarly work that receives a performance every bit as fine as Britten/Rostropovich, which still remains the benchmark version. Paul Watkins and Gardner somehow make music out of the low, grotty opening, pacing the movement as unerringly as did Britten himself. The finale works its way up to a wonderfully life-affirming conclusion, and Watkins does a wonderful job with the lengthy preceding cadenza. In short, this release is a major entry in the Britten discography, and the sonics are every bit the equal of the interpretations.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Composing over 150 works for piano and voice over a period of 44 years, the songs of Francis Poulenc remain consistently popular to concert audiences the world over. Varying in their individual style and character in a way that defies generalization, Poulenc set music to a wide range of different French poetry - both ancient and modern, and from the serious to the surreal. This is the fourth release in our series that will encompass the complete songs of Francis Poulenc, performed by some of the greatest singers of the day and accompanied by the exceptional Malcolm Martineau.

Mozart’s Mitridate, re di Ponto was first performed in Milan in 1770—the composer was still a month short of his fifteenth birthday and the opera ran for an impressive 22 performances. As well as the complete opera, this release includes original versions of a number of arias that Mozart subsequently changed.

BERLIOZ ENSEMBLE WROCLAW; MCCREESH (COND.) GRANDE MESSE DES MORTS

Classical Music

Some of the UK’s best singers come together for this album, which is the first release in a series profiling the complete songs of Gabriel Faure. Pianist Malcolm Martineau heads up this project, performing beautifully. This release follows his critically acclaimed series of The Complete Poulenc Songs. Vocalists featured on this release include Lorna Anderson, Nigel Cliffe, Ann Murray, John Chest, and more.

Perahia has a magic touch and his electric spontaneity is naturally caught in the studio. In the works of Schumann...this quality of concentration is enormously valuable, and the results could hardly be more powerfully convincing...

-- The Penguin Guide, selecting this issue as a "key" recording

Composing over 150 works for piano and voice over a period of 44 years, the songs of Francis Poulenc remain consistently popular to concert audiences the world over. Varying in their individual style and character, Poulenc set music to a wide range of different French poetry – both ancient and modern, and from the serious to the surreal. The final disc in Signum’s series of The Complete Songs of Francis Poulenc features a cast of the finest singers of our generation, accompanied by Malcolm Martineau as well as additional instrumental soloists for Poulenc’s larger-ensemble settings of his songs.

Choral music was central to Charles Villiers Stanford's life as a composer. Balancing solemnity with rapturous affirmation. The Resurrection was his first major choral work, written while he was studying under Carl Reinecke in Leipzig and anticipating Mahler's use of Klopstock's eponymous poem in his "Resurrection" Symphony. The dramatic, at times almost operatic and Wagnerian Stabat Mater is a cantata with two purely orchestral movements suggestive of a large-scale symphony, while Song to the Soul contains some of Stanford's most exhilarating utterances, though it was never performed in his lifetime.

Who can resist the casual, seductive, ingenious and multilayered music of Brazil? A country of continental dimensions where all of Europe could fit within her borders! But size isn't everything! From the lithesome, musical elegance of the choro to the hypnotic sensuality of the Bossa nova, and a kaleidoscope of subtle rhythms wrapped in sophisticated jazz harmonies, the sound of Brazilian music is unforgettable unmistakable, and best summed up by the Portuguese word ''saudade,'' which mingles yearning, sadness and memory. The leading recorder-player for decades, Michala Petri returns to take us on a new musical journey to Terra do Brasil through the music of Jobim, Nazareth, Gismonti, Villa-Lobos, Hermeto Pascoal and others. Joining her are two exciting musicians in their fields: the young guitarist and composer Daniel Murray and award-winning percussionist/composer Marilyn Mazur. A natural guitar prodigy, Murray has established himself at a young age as both a masterful interpreter of the music of Tom Jobim and as a leading voice in the contemporary Brazilian music scene.

Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier

Margaret Jane Wray has performed with some of the most important musical figures of our day, including Daniel Barenboim, Maris Janssons and Seiji Ozawa and enjoys a busy career as a concert artist in addition to her varied operatic performances. Included on this disc is the rarely recorded 1862 concert ending to the 'Love Duet' from 'Tristan und Isolde'.

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

Also available on standard DVD

Perhaps no opera is closely and affectionately associated with a single house as Le nozze di Figaro is with Glyndebourne. Effortlessly witty yet shot through with pain and sadness, this deeply ambivalent life in the day of masters and servants as they scheme and outwit one another was Glyndebourne’s opening production in 1934. Michael Grandage’s staging is the seventh, set in a louche Sixties ambience. Marshalled by the ‘ideal pacing’ of Robin Ticciati, a youthful cast of principals has ‘no weak link’ and ‘looks gorgeous’ (The Sunday Times) in a production that continues Glyndebourne’s rewarding history of engagement with Mozart’s and da Ponte’s ‘day of madness’.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
LE NOZZE DI FIGARO

(Blu-ray Disc Version)
Countess Almaviva – Sally Matthews
Figaro – Vito Priante
Count Almaviva – Audun Iversen
Susanna – Lydia Teuscher
Cherubino – Isabel Leonard
Bartolo – Andrew Shore
Marcellina – Ann Murray
Don Basilio – Alan Oke
Antonio – Nicholas Folwell
Don Curzio – Colin Judson
Barbarina – Sarah Shafer
First Bridesmaid – Ellie Laugharne
Second Bridesmaid – Katie Bray

Glyndebourne Chorus
Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment
Robin Ticciati, conductor

Michael Grandage, stage director

Recorded live at Glyndebourne Festival, June 2012

Bonus:
- The Greatest Opera Ever Written
- From page to stage

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: 180 mins
No. of Discs: 1


REVIEWS

Despite some qualification, Glyndebourne’s new Figaro (summer 2012) is a delight. The curtain opens during the overture on the outside of a Spanish mansion—just what we might expect from an opera set on the outskirts of Seville—with shiny tiles, Moorish arches, and handsome latticework, and townsfolk bustling back and forth. It’s startling to see a circa late-1960s red sports car pull up and have the Almavivas get out: they’re coming home from somewhere or settling into their summer getaway. The Count is the very picture of not-such-great-taste, sporting a page-boy haircut and costumed in a velvet suit with bell-bottomed pants and a wide-lapelled, multi-colored shirt. He obviously is quite a swinging dude, and director Michael Grandage and his wonderful designer Christopher Oram have placed the opera in the decade of the flower children. Will this work?

We meet Figaro and Susanna, dressed more moderately (she would appear to be pregnant in a black outfit with white collar, but it’s never mentioned) and nicely familiar. She is spunky and he seems like a nice guy, and he certainly doesn’t like the fact that his boss wants to sleep with his fiancée, although she seems able to take care of herself. And why should Figaro like it? This is the 1960s or ’70s, and despite the fact that Franco is still in power, the Count’s request is not a feudal right; it’s nothing but bullying. And so Beaumarchais’ and da Ponte’s satire on class war no longer exists, and that tends to be the crux of the opera in its original setting.

Instead, we get the never-ending battle of the sexes, a look at an unhappy marriage, and a rather nasty, wealthy guy with a sense of entitlement along with a pretty good comedy peopled by what seem like real people. During “Non piu andrai”, which Figaro sings while the Count is present, the two men hang out like chums, Figaro leaning with an arm on the Count’s shoulder. Susanna never curtsies and she seems genuinely concerned with cheering up the Countess. If you’re willing to forego the pre-Revolutionary subtext, you’ll have a fine time, especially watching the cast do the twist at the wedding and during the finale. The absolutely natural stage action eschews slapstick and vulgarity and the singers seem more than happy to adapt. Vito Priante’s Figaro, shorn of class anger, is a bit mild, but his stage presence and singing are extraordinary. Rhythmically precise throughout, he eats up “Aprite un po’…” in the last act and is superb in ensembles. Lydia Teuscher’s Susanna is a rich-voiced, non-soubrette, observant Countess-in-the-making; and of course, within this context she might some day have the same social standing. Sally Matthews, if she had a trill for the end of “Dov’e sono”, would be a perfect Countess: her predicament is very clear, and you sense that she wishes she were more lighthearted, more able to adjust to the swinging attitudes going on around her. The voice itself is a gorgeous, full lyric. Audun Iversen’s Count is a sloppy, privileged tyrant, all the more frustrated because no one will pay any attention to his nastiness. His singing is the least neat of all, but he’s a powerful presence. Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino is perfect—boyish and sassy and nimble.

Class acts Ann Murray and Andrew Shore, both a bit vocally worn, are nonetheless a terrific Marzellina and Bartolo, and Alan Oke’s Basilio is snidely right-on. (Neither he nor Marzellina get their last-act arias.) Sarah Shafer is a fine Barbarina, looking to be about 14 years old. And as mentioned, Oram’s luxurious sets add to the special feel of the production. I’m somewhat stumped by Robin Ticciati’s conducting of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. The instruments are period but the approach is mid-20th century—not slow or heavy, really, but somehow lacking the zip we expect these days. The finale of Act 2 is wonderfully clear but lacks the “accidental” mania it should have. There are plenty of laughs from the Glyndebourne audience, but the whole affair is not the insane day Mozart envisioned. The preferred DVD versions are Pappano’s from Covent Garden (Opus Arte) and Jacobs’ (on BelAir); nonetheless, this new one is fresh and charming and a good bet.

-- Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

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MOZART Le nozze di Figaro & • Robin Ticciati, cond; Vito Priante (Figaro); Lydia Teuscher (Susanna); Audun Iversen (Almaviva); Sally Matthews (Countess); Isabel Leonard (Cherubino); Ann Murray (Marcellina); Andrew Shore (Bartolo); Sarah Shafer (Barbarina); Alan Oke (Don Basilio); O of the Age of Enlightenment; Glyndebourne Ch • OPUS ARTE 7118 (Blu-ray: 154:00+14:00) Live: Glyndebourne 2012

& Le Nozze di Figaro: The Greatest Opera Ever Written? Le Nozze di Figaro: From Page to Stage

What do we have here? A Marriage of Figaro where the noble couple arrive home in a snazzy Austin-Healey convertible; where the Susanna sports a 1950s-style maternity top and an obvious baby bump in her wedding dress; where the Count wears a velour-trousered leisure suit with bell bottoms, and shares a hand-rolled joint with his maid while trying to grope her; where the peasants at the festivities (along with the Count) dance the Twist and the Frug; where several of the characters look like they were outfitted on London’s Carnaby Street in the 1960s. We get all of that, along with some lavish Moorish-style sets and a historically informed pit band, in this 2012 Blu-ray video from the Glyndebourne Festival. Helped along by some excellent singing, it all proves quite satisfactory and highly entertaining.

I’m not sure a pregnant Susanna makes much more sense than a pregnant Juliet; after all, the Count is supposed to be trying to amorously seduce her, and is asked to attest to her virginal status prior to the wedding. But when a pregnant lead soprano turns up for work, I suppose the show must go on. The soprano in question, young German lyric Lydia Teuscher, does, in truth, look quite attractive and well worth seducing even in maternity garb, and the fine singing she brings to Susanna more than compensates for the slight loss in verity to Da Ponte’s libretto. In fact, all of the singing is quite excellent, down to the luxury casting of noted mezzo-soprano Ann Murray in the role of Marcellina. (Unfortunately, her act IV aria, along with Don Basilio’s, is cut.) Young Italian bass-baritone Vito Priante brings a rich and accurate instrument to Mozart’s title character, and his rather hyperkinetic acting has been toned down a bit by director Michael Grandage to more properly fit the production concept (and the close-up cameras). Aside from Murray, the best-known singer in the cast is probably British soprano Sally Matthews, who here is a quite lovely and enjoyable Countess and provides finely sung versions of “Porgi amor” and “Dove sono.” She also combines beautifully with Teuscher to sing a consummate “Sull’ aria,” one of my favorite duets in all opera. The Count with his 60s-style Mod haircut, mustache, and hippie style clothes, comes off as a bit ridiculous, robbing the character of any real menace, but baritone Audun Iversen also has a fine, rich voice, and brings a rather comedic swagger to the part. He also brings much avid physical contact to his enthusiastic pursuit of Susanna. (One might wonder why in the Act IV Garden Scene he fails to notice the lady he is embracing is minus the belly). Isabel Leonard continues her rapid climb to the top ranks with this lively and endearing portrayal of boy Cherubino; some say she steals the show here. Oh, and she can really sing, a joy to listen to. As usual for Glyndebourne, the smaller roles are finely cast as well. The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment provides a properly light touch in Mozart’s score, just as this wonderful little light comedy demands.

There are over 20 versions of this opera out on video, several fine ones among them. In Blu-ray format the field is much smaller. Perhaps the Covent Garden production from 2006 with Erwin Schrott in the title role is the equal to this one, I haven’t seen it, but it has gotten good reviews. As with nearly all Glyndebourne productions I have seen, they provide full value here with elegant sets, fine singers, and a well-rehearsed cast in a charming staging. Le Nozze is a bit of a special opera for the Festival, as it inaugurated the series back in 1934 with a cast including the owner’s wife, Audrey Mildmay. The Glyndebourne forces have done the opera full justice in this new production, and this entertaining Blu-ray set deserves to be highly recommended.

FANFARE: Bill White

The Meditation collection was created to feature famous classical melodies in an original dialogue between two distinctive instruments. These beautiful recordings will encourage a sense of calmness and serenity during meditation. Philippe Davenet on piano and Martial Murray on the angelic zither join forces for this latest edition in the series. Satie's "Gymnopédie No. 3," Chopin's "Nocturne in C sharp Minor," and Offenbach's "Barcarolle" from the Tales of Hoffman are just a few of the classic titles you'll discover on this marvelous recording.

Classical Music

Also available on Blu-ray

Perhaps no opera is closely and affectionately associated with a single house as Le nozze di Figaro is with Glyndebourne. Effortlessly witty yet shot through with pain and sadness, this deeply ambivalent life in the day of masters and servants as they scheme and outwit one another was Glyndebourne’s opening production in 1934. Michael Grandage’s staging is the seventh, set in a louche Sixties ambience. Marshalled by the ‘ideal pacing’ of Robin Ticciati, a youthful cast of principals has ‘no weak link’ and ‘looks gorgeous’ (The Sunday Times) in a production that continues Glyndebourne’s rewarding history of engagement with Mozart’s and da Ponte’s ‘day of madness’.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
LE NOZZE DI FIGARO

Countess Almaviva – Sally Matthews
Figaro – Vito Priante
Count Almaviva – Audun Iversen
Susanna – Lydia Teuscher
Cherubino – Isabel Leonard
Bartolo – Andrew Shore
Marcellina – Ann Murray
Don Basilio – Alan Oke
Antonio – Nicholas Folwell
Don Curzio – Colin Judson
Barbarina – Sarah Shafer
First Bridesmaid – Ellie Laugharne
Second Bridesmaid – Katie Bray

Glyndebourne Chorus
Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment
Robin Ticciati, conductor

Michael Grandage, stage director

Recorded live at Glyndebourne Festival, June 2012

Bonus:
- The Greatest Opera Ever Written
- From page to stage

Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: LPCM 2.0 / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English, French, German, Japanese, Korean
Running time: 180 mins
No. of DVDs: 2


FULL REVIEW
Despite some qualification, Glyndebourne’s new Figaro (summer 2012) is a delight. The curtain opens during the overture on the outside of a Spanish mansion—just what we might expect from an opera set on the outskirts of Seville—with shiny tiles, Moorish arches, and handsome latticework, and townsfolk bustling back and forth. It’s startling to see a circa late-1960s red sports car pull up and have the Almavivas get out: they’re coming home from somewhere or settling into their summer getaway. The Count is the very picture of not-such-great-taste, sporting a page-boy haircut and costumed in a velvet suit with bell-bottomed pants and a wide-lapelled, multi-colored shirt. He obviously is quite a swinging dude, and director Michael Grandage and his wonderful designer Christopher Oram have placed the opera in the decade of the flower children. Will this work?
We meet Figaro and Susanna, dressed more moderately (she would appear to be pregnant in a black outfit with white collar, but it’s never mentioned) and nicely familiar. She is spunky and he seems like a nice guy, and he certainly doesn’t like the fact that his boss wants to sleep with his fiancée, although she seems able to take care of herself. And why should Figaro like it? This is the 1960s or ’70s, and despite the fact that Franco is still in power, the Count’s request is not a feudal right; it’s nothing but bullying. And so Beaumarchais’ and da Ponte’s satire on class war no longer exists, and that tends to be the crux of the opera in its original setting.
Instead, we get the never-ending battle of the sexes, a look at an unhappy marriage, and a rather nasty, wealthy guy with a sense of entitlement along with a pretty good comedy peopled by what seem like real people. During “Non piu andrai”, which Figaro sings while the Count is present, the two men hang out like chums, Figaro leaning with an arm on the Count’s shoulder. Susanna never curtsies and she seems genuinely concerned with cheering up the Countess. If you’re willing to forego the pre-Revolutionary subtext, you’ll have a fine time, especially watching the cast do the twist at the wedding and during the finale. The absolutely natural stage action eschews slapstick and vulgarity and the singers seem more than happy to adapt. Vito Priante’s Figaro, shorn of class anger, is a bit mild, but his stage presence and singing are extraordinary. Rhythmically precise throughout, he eats up “Aprite un po’…” in the last act and is superb in ensembles. Lydia Teuscher’s Susanna is a rich-voiced, non-soubrette, observant Countess-in-the-making; and of course, within this context she might some day have the same social standing. Sally Matthews, if she had a trill for the end of “Dov’e sono”, would be a perfect Countess: her predicament is very clear, and you sense that she wishes she were more lighthearted, more able to adjust to the swinging attitudes going on around her. The voice itself is a gorgeous, full lyric. Audun Iversen’s Count is a sloppy, privileged tyrant, all the more frustrated because no one will pay any attention to his nastiness. His singing is the least neat of all, but he’s a powerful presence. Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino is perfect—boyish and sassy and nimble.
Class acts Ann Murray and Andrew Shore, both a bit vocally worn, are nonetheless a terrific Marzellina and Bartolo, and Alan Oke’s Basilio is snidely right-on. (Neither he nor Marzellina get their last-act arias.) Sarah Shafer is a fine Barbarina, looking to be about 14 years old. And as mentioned, Oram’s luxurious sets add to the special feel of the production. I’m somewhat stumped by Robin Ticciati’s conducting of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. The instruments are period but the approach is mid-20th century—not slow or heavy, really, but somehow lacking the zip we expect these days. The finale of Act 2 is wonderfully clear but lacks the “accidental” mania it should have. There are plenty of laughs from the Glyndebourne audience, but the whole affair is not the insane day Mozart envisioned. The preferred DVD versions are Pappano’s from Covent Garden (Opus Arte) and Jacobs’ (on BelAir); nonetheless, this new one is fresh and charming and a good bet.
-- Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com