{"id":4635,"date":"2020-03-04T22:31:45","date_gmt":"2020-03-04T21:31:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/atorod.pl\/?p=4635"},"modified":"2020-06-07T17:25:05","modified_gmt":"2020-06-07T15:25:05","slug":"music-vs-sports","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/?p=4635","title":{"rendered":"Music vs. Sports"},"content":{"rendered":"

Verdi had no great love for the French people, but he adored Paris. He complained about their soloists (in his opinion, the worst he had heard in his entire life), about the inferior choruses and at best average orchestras \u2013 but despite this, he spent more time in the French capital than in Rome, not only to keep an eye on production of his operas, but also to take advantage of the great city\u2019s charms and abundant theatrical offerings. He grumbled about audience tastes and compared the operations of Parisian opera houses to soulless factories; nonetheless, he dreamed of being able to surpass Meyerbeer himself in the peculiarly French grand op\u00e9ra<\/em> genre. He began in the golden age of this ultra-bourgeois variant of the art: with J\u00e9rusalem<\/em>, presented in 1847 in Le Peletier and constituting an adaptation of a dramma lirico<\/em> from four years earlier entitled I Lombardi alla prima crociata<\/em>. He made another attempt, after the February Revolution of 1848, when the monarchy under the sceptre of Louis Philippe\u00a0I was replaced with a republican system. Les v\u00eapres siciliennes<\/em>, born amid suffering, reached the stage of the Paris Opera only in June 1855, during a transitory crisis in the genre. It attained great, but short-lived success. After a revival in 1863, the opera saw a mere few dozen performances in Paris, after which it disappeared from the repertoire for nearly a century. Furthermore, it returned in a somewhat later \u2018export\u2019 version with a libretto poorly translated into Italian, which premi\u00e8red in December 1855 at the Teatro Regio di Parma (at that time, under the title Giovanna di Guzman<\/em>). Despite sometimes superb casts and the efforts of the greatest masters of the baton, it did not enter the standard opera repertoire. A revival of the original French version took place only in 2003 at Op\u00e9ra Bastille.<\/p>\n

Since then, the V\u00eapres <\/em>have been laboriously paving their way into the hearts of Verdi enthusiasts. Well-received in Geneva, Bilbao and Frankfurt, it met with a cool reaction after the Covent Garden premi\u00e8re in 2013 from critics who considered it to be an internally incoherent work, full of long drawn-out bits and none-too-inspired in comparison with the masterpieces from the middle period of the composer\u2019s \u0153uvre<\/em>. In Poland, the opera has never enjoyed popularity: presented a mere two times \u2013 in the 1870s in Warsaw and just before World War\u00a0II in Pozna\u0144 \u2013 it flitted briefly across the stage of Opera Nova in Bydgoszcz in 2006, in a terrible production by the St\u00e1tn\u00ed Opera from Prague, which quickly disappeared from music lovers\u2019 memory. For this reason, it was without hesitation that I took off to Cardiff for the third performance after the premi\u00e8re of the most recent staging of David Pountney, who \u2013 after productions of La forza del destino<\/em> and Un ballo in maschera<\/em> \u2013 decided to close off his \u2018Verdi trilogy\u2019 with Les v\u00eapres siciliennes<\/em>.<\/p>\n

However, I did not deny myself the pleasure of acquainting myself a day earlier with a revival of Le nozze di Figaro<\/em> in Tobias Richter\u2019s staging, which had returned to the Welsh National Opera after four years \u2013 this time prepared by Max Hoehn, a young British-Swiss stage director, librettist and translator (among other things, he is working on a new translation of Cos\u00ec fan tutte<\/em>). Judging from the progress of his career thus far, Hoehn really loves opera. Judging from what I saw in Cardiff, he has an exceptional talent for working with singing actors. Richter\u2019s production \u2013 with its economical stage design by Ralph Koltai and, for a change of pace, splendid quasi-historical costumes by Sue Blane \u2013 hits the bull\u2019s eye in terms of both the tastes of the local audience (which considers Le nozze <\/em>\u2013 in my opinion rightly \u2013 to be one of the most wonderful, if not the greatest operatic masterpiece of all time), and the character of the work itself: a proper opera<\/em> buffa <\/em>with two distinctly-drawn pairs of protagonists; an array of subplots; the comic figure of the hormonally-challenged Cherubino, who is prepared to fall in love with any woman that crosses his path (OK, except maybe for Marcellina); the obligatory happy ending; and a discreet Enlightenment message about the victory of reason over the arbitrariness of authority. A message \u2013 let us add \u2013 considerably more discreet than in Beaumarchais\u2019 work, for in Mozart\u2019s time, opera owed its raison d\u2019\u00eatre <\/em>above all to the generosity of aristocratic patrons. Hoehn brilliantly refreshed the 2016 staging, focusing all of his attention on precision of acting and clear presentation of the libretto text, from which he drew out often-omitted flavours: to this day, I burst out laughing whenever I recall the facial expression of Antonio (Laurence Cole) at the words \u2018ch\u00e9 il cavallo io non vidi saltare di l\u00e0\u2019.<\/p>\n

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Le nozze di Figaro<\/em>. Soraya Mafi (Susanna) and David Ireland (Figaro). Photo: Richard Hubert Smith<\/p>\n

Most of the cast carried out the tasks entrusted to them faultlessly, though in purely vocal terms, the one who \u2018stole\u2019 the evening from her colleagues was Soraya Mafi, a Susanna with a voice radiant as the sun, softness in the upper register and impeccable intonation. David Ireland, debuting as Figaro, gradually gained in power of conviction: his resonant and comely, but still stiffly-handled bass-baritone did not permit him to convey all the nuances of this role. Despite this, compared to them, Count and Countess Almaviva came out decidedly worse: Anita Watson, endowed with a soprano of pretty, silky timbre, had considerable difficulty with phrasing and accentuation of syllables in the recitatives; in the otherwise beautiful singing of Jonathan McGovern, there was a lack of self-confidence and perfidy-laced authority. Similar problems were encountered by Anna Harvey, who \u2013 despite possessing a sensual, distinctive mezzo-soprano simply ideal for a pants role \u2013 was unconvincing as a teenager high on testosterone. The remaining soloists displayed a superb feel for their characters and an exceptional vis comica<\/em>: chief among them Harriet Eyley, a Barbarina with a voice like crystal; as well as Leah Marian Jones and Henry Waddington \u2013 a pair of experienced artists who were able to not only play Marcellina and Bartolo, but also sing them properly. A big round of applause for the choristers of the WNO \u2013 all of them together and each one individually \u2013 as well as for the dependable orchestra, which obediently realized the conductor\u2019s concept. There is no way to deny the lightness and charm of Carlo Rizzi\u2019s interpretation; the tempi, however, were excessively brisk, sometimes at the expense of precision in articulation, especially in the strings.<\/p>\n

The performance of Les v\u00eapres siciliennes <\/em>the day after, under the same baton, will no doubt go down in WNO history. At the beginning, it didn\u2019t occur to me why the audience \u2013 in this country, generally well-disciplined \u2013 did not finish up their conversations after the lights went out, and continued to check the screens of their smartphones. The first phone rang during the overture. Rizzi interrupted and shouted angrily over his shoulder, \u2018Telefono!\u2019 The next one coincided with the beginning of Vaudemont\u2019s recitative. Before we found out \u2018quelle est cette beaut\u00e9\u2019, the conductor again halted the musicians and kindly, though firmly explained to the audience why one should turn off electronic devices before the performance begins. He received a hurricane of applause. Even though a fierce match was playing out between Wales and France at the Six Nations Cup in the nearby Millennium Stadium, from this moment onward nothing interrupted the progress of the performance. No one disappeared at intermission either.<\/p>\n

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Les v\u00eapres siciliennes<\/em>. Anush Hovhannisyan (H\u00e9l\u00e8ne). Photo: Johan Person<\/p>\n

The credit for this goes, among other things, to David Pountney\u2019s coherent concept \u2013 even if regular attenders bridled at the director\u2019s yet again shamelessly recycling his own earlier ideas, this time from the two previous parts of the \u2018trilogy\u2019. I had not seen either of them live, so I did not feel wearied by the re-utilization of elements from Raimund Bauer\u2019s minimalist stage design \u2013 mobile black frames, alternatingly organizing the space and giving it the status of a metaphor. Pountney rightly discerned that Scribe and Duveyrier\u2019s dramaturgically lame text does not so much tell the story of the protagonists, as evoke the ideas that occupied Verdi\u2019s mind throughout his artistic career: the complex relations between father and son, the loneliness of the high and mighty of this world, the impossibility of reconciling human dreams of happiness with duty toward one\u2019s people and one\u2019s native land.<\/p>\n

The simple scenery and props \u2013 superbly lit by Fabrice Kebour \u2013 are of strongly symbolic character, and effectively stimulate the viewer\u2019s imagination. The costumes drawn from various eras reflect the figurative nature of the libretto: an adaptation of Le duc d\u2019Albe<\/em>, in the case of the French version transporting the action from the original 16th<\/sup>-century Flanders back to the 13th<\/sup>\u00a0century; in the later Italian version, again transporting the original action to another reality \u2013 this time, that of 17th<\/sup>-century Portugal under Spanish rule. In Pountney\u2019s take, the French occupation forces look down upon the oppressed Sicilians from the heights of ladders that move about the stage. H\u00e9l\u00e8ne \u2013 dressed in a black gown \u2013 rides onstage in a frame, like a portrait of a widow from the insurrection. Procida, returning from exile, clambers onto the shore from a non-existent boat, laboriously passing through the next of the three mobile frames. The ballet from Act III, originally intended as an allegory of the four seasons, turns into a drastic tale about the fortunes of Henri \u2013 starting with the seduction of his mother by Montfort \u2013 conveyed in the expressive language of modern dance mixed with pantomime (spectacular choreography by Caroline Finn). This theatre-within-a-theatre is observed by viewers hidden behind the silhouettes of characters from the Sicilian Opera dei Pupi. In Act IV, the wired walls of the prison slide together from both sides, almost crushing the conspirators held within. Confusion ensues only in the finale, which is even less clear than in the opera libretto \u2013 this is probably the only unsuccessful element of Pountney\u2019s concept. In this case, I agree with the critics that a stage director of this standing should not lack for ideas to sum up the narrative.<\/p>\n

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Giorgio Caoduro (Guy de Montfort) with Marine Tournet (dancer). Photo: Johan Person<\/p>\n

That evening, Carlo Rizzi found himself in his element. He skillfully highlighted the greatest strengths of this score \u2013 the bizarrely orchestrated collection of themes and motifs from the work in the terrifying overture, the spatial effects in the truly Meyerbeerian choruses, the clear diversification of compositional language in the emotion-laden arias, the intimate duets and the overwhelmingly enormous sound of the ensemble scenes. He also brought out the musical best in the scenes that were \u2018miscarried\u2019 in dramaturgical terms: chief among them the brilliant quartet from Act\u00a0I, full of unearthly harmonies. With the soloists, the results were varying. Just as Susanna took over the foreground in Le nozze di Figaro<\/em>, so the rest of the cast in the V\u00eapres <\/em>was dominated by Giorgio Caoduro (Guy de Montfort), an Italian baritone endowed with a bright, passionate voice and, at the same time, superb in terms of character, the type of singer who rivets the audience\u2019s attention from his first entrance onstage. In terms of acting, he was fully equaled by Anush Hovhannisyan (H\u00e9l\u00e8ne), whose very expressive soprano was \u2013 unfortunately \u2013 not yet mature enough for this role, and therefore marred by insecure intonation and a dull sound in the low register. Her partner Jung Soo Yun did what he could in the thankless role of Henri: technically, he was exemplary; however, he aroused mixed feelings, for nature has punished him with a tenor of extraordinarily unpleasant, indeed repulsive timbre. If someone were to attempt a studio recording of Les v\u00eapres<\/em>, the velvet-voiced Wojtek Gierlach would be the Procida of one\u2019s dreams; onstage, however, he was lacking in the charisma that is an inseparable part of this fanatic patriot\u2019s character. Among the supporting roles, particularly noteworthy were Christine Byrne (Ninette) and Robyn Lyn Evans (Danieli) \u2013 for instance, even just for their contribution to the tremendous quartet \u2018Quel horreur m\u2019environne\u2019.<\/p>\n

In the aforementioned rugby match, the French beat the Welsh by four points. I don\u2019t know if it will comfort Cardiff sports fans, but at the same time, the Welsh National Opera ensemble effectively routed opponents of Verdi\u2019s forgotten work.<\/p>\n

Translated by: Karol Thornton-Remiszewski<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Verdi had no great love for the French people, but he adored Paris. He complained about their soloists (in his opinion, the worst he had heard in his entire life), about the inferior choruses and at best average orchestras \u2013 but despite this, he spent more time in the French capital than in Rome, not … [Read more…]<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,7],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"entry","1":"post","2":"publish","3":"author-mangusta","4":"post-4635","6":"format-standard","7":"category-posts-in-english","8":"category-wedrowki-operowe"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4635","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4635"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4635\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4883,"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4635\/revisions\/4883"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4635"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4635"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/atorod.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4635"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}