Gaspare Spontini, La vestale (1807)

Huh.  It's not that I haven't been seeing operas lately, albeit at a less furious pace than in the past, but...I don't know why I haven't been writing about them.  Is it just that I feel on some level I've proven my point?  Hard to say.  Regardless, here's this.

Right, okay, so the story here is, we're in Ancient Rome times.  Licinius is a victorious general, but he has a problem: he's in love with Julia, but she's been made to become a priestess of Vesta and so they can't be together.  But he decides, fuck it, I'm gonna take her away and we'll get married anyway.  So he breaks into the temple and they're reunited, but oh no!  During their little tryst, they let the eternal flame expire.  Doh!  Now Julia is going to be executed for this transgression, and Licinius vows to stop the execution even if it means dying in her place.

Okay, pause for a moment.  I didn't actually know how the opera was going to end while I was watching it; I immediately assumed it would be a tragedy, but I also thought it might turn out to be a romance like Rossini sometimes wrote: not a comedy, but with a happy ending.  It was kind of fun to be watching an opera legitimately wondering how it would turn out.

So this production is transplanted to some sort of twentieth-century fascist state.  It's been done.  And it's actually, at least in parts, somewhat effective in that regard, although the sacred flame being visualized as a pile of burning books is a bit too dumb for me to suspend disbelief.  So anyway, in the end, the goddess Vesta appears and is all, hey cut this shit out; also, let them get married, dammit.  But then!  Licinius' friend, who doesn't really do all that much in the opera, has been sort of conferring silently with various characters, and the upside is, everyone else gets massacred off-stage, with the sound of machine-gun fire.

Huh!  Which part of that do you think is NOT in the libretto?  A real poser!  I don't know if Slylock Fox and suss this one out, for god's sake OF COURSE nobody dies in the end, how stupid are you?  It has a happy ending, a la Idomeneo.  When I wasn't sure of that--when I thought it might actually end tragically--the setting seemed like it might be sort of appropriate, but in retrospect, I was clearly fooling myself there: 1807 is pretty early for a standard tragic opera, and it's unlikely that Rome would be portrayed in such a universally negative light.  So yeah.  The production requires the characters to be distorted--there aren't really any villains in the actual thing per se, just somewhat misguided priests--and of course, the whole thing is wildly contrary to the spirit of the piece.  It's just so grotesquely disrespectful to the opera itself, and if it thinks it's making some sort of ideological point, it's totally unclear what that might be.  It's just fucking garbage, and whoever's responsible for the production ought to be ashamed.

And it's a really good opera, in fact!  Lots of heartfelt and dramatic moments (also, a big name--Michael Spyres--as Licinius; are even star singers so hard-up they have to appear in dreck like this?  Though granted, he might feel that the material he gets to sing make up for that, or he might have terrible taste; I don't know!)!  Makes me want to see more of Spontini, but that might be hard; there's a production on disc of Fernand Cortez ou la Conquete du Mexique, but I'm not gonna lie, that sounds kinda gross.  Well, as ever, we'll see.

Will Liverman and DJ King Rico, The Factotum (2022)

So here is this, which I saw.  The video used to be available online, but I don't think it is now.  Maybe I'll upload it if you ask nicely.  At any rate.

Right, so the title is clearly in reference to Rossini.  Stories about the opera all say it.  But aside from the fact that some of the characters are, uh, barbers, the resemblance to Barbiere seems non-existent.   Why would you claim that when it's not true?  What purpose does this weirdly arcane lie serve?  Bah! 

So look: all I need to say about the music--a great mix of opera, jazz, gospel, soul, r&b, and I don't know what all--is that it fucking owns throughout.  Purely on the basis of the music, no one should pass this up.

The plot, however, is something of a mixed bag.  It takes place in a Chicago barbershop, co-owned by two brothers, Mike and Garby.  Mike is all serious and straight-laced about the business, while Garby is a hustler, selling bootleg merchandise and, though the opera never mentions it, almost certainly drugs, given that he seems to be loaded.  So, obviously, the two of them clash.  There's also a thing concerning Mike and Garby's nieces Cece (their sister her mother having died young).  Cece doesn't speak since her mother's death, but if this is supposed to be because of trauma, the piece really doesn't sell it: she's always smiling and sashaying around the stage, and she clearly hears and understands people, sometimes even responding with gestures.  What IS this?  And also, she's going away to college the next day, we are told many times, and, I mean, okay, but shouldn't her current muteness be, I don't know, part of the conversation at least?  This is weird.  

But ANYWAY, the other plot thing here is the relationship between Garby and his girlfriend Rose.  This dude CJ appears, recently back from a military tour; he and Rose had apparently had some sort of thing in the past, and he's still in love with her, even though he knows she and Garby are serious.  But Garby ALSO seems to be behaving irresponsibly and treating her poorly, so maybe...?  Well, you'll find out!

The libretto is mostly good on a textual level, but it has it DOES have it's clunky moments, as well as larger structural issues.  As an example of the former, in the first song, a chorus exhorts you to go to the barber shop, which is all well and good, except then the last lines, repeated many times, is "but don't forget to pay," and it's just such a bizarre emphasis.  It would only work if "paying" as a concept played a role in the opera--like, the barber shop SEEMS all great and stuff, but then there's the dark side: you must pay.  But no, nothing like that.  Instead, you just get the impression that it's there to fill space, and it's sort of embarrassing.  Oh well.

As for the latter, the story just has a REALLY jarring transition between the tones of the first and second acts.  The first is this super-fun, colorful, hyper-real sort of thing, and then in the second, with no warning, bam, police brutality.  Obviously, I think this is a valid subject for an African American opera (or any opera), but I really think there needs to be some indication that that's the direction you're going in.  Otherwise...gads.

Anyway, what happens is, Cece is beaten and detained, and, naturally, everyone is righteously enraged over this.  But, I mean, ARGH, I don't think this was the best direction to take the piece in, but if you're GOING to, then DO it.  But this...doesn't, because after a little while Cece reappears, seemingly none the worse for wear, and also, now she can talk, or at least sing.  Okay.  That ended anti-climactically.  Seriously, the whole racism angle just kind of fizzles out (though all due credit to Nissi Shalome, who is radiant in the duel singing/dancing role).  What are you even trying to say?

I will say, though, that I was both surprised and edified by the conclusion of the love triangle plotline: we're clearly set up to want CJ to get Rose, but in my book, it's pretty darned unsatisfying if he just gets her because her current boyfriend is bad.  That has sorta incel-y vibes.  Doesn't happen, though; it turns out Garby isn't actually a bad guy, and he and Rose reaffirm their love, and, well, CJ is wistful but accepting.  Much better than I'd expected!

So, yup.  There we are.  As I said, killer music, and I actually did find the conclusion satisfying, in spite of some bumpiness in getting there.  Highly recommended.

Anthony Davis, X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X (1986)

I'd been wanting to see this for a long time, though that may have been mainly because I wanted an "X" opera for my list. Actually, recently I accomplished that one with Cavalli's Xerse, and yes, unlike Handel's version, this one was Latinized with an X. Why didn't I write about it? It's actually really good, as you'd expect from Cavalli; it uses the same libretto that Handel later did with revisions. Of course I don't have the Handel libretto memorized or anything, but you may be interested to know that "Ombra mai fu" actually includes a lot of lyrics that Handel eliminated. I suppose I can see the "more is less" argument, but it's still really interesting to hear them.

Anyway, as for this particular X opera, which was a Met Live in HD broadcast back in the fall. The first thing I do have to note is that that subtitle is a big ol' fail. So clunky. Why not just a minimalistic "X?" I suppose it wouldn't be considered descriptive enough; not good for marketing. But even if you HAD to use a subtitle, I feel like you could come up with something better than that. Probably.

Well, it's sort of what you'd expect. It covers X's life in a slightly impressionistic way, from his dissipated younger life, doing jail time, meeting Elijah Muhammed and joining the Nation of Islam, preaching to the people, falling out with Muhammed, doing the Haj and changing his name to El-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz, and of course being assassinated. It's really good, I have to say. The music is highly varied, drawing on classical and jazz and...you know, an AI could write this sentence. But trust me, it's good. I enjoyed the first act the most; it somehow seemed to lost a little momentum after that.

Seriously, this is super-good. People complain about affirmative action, but to that I say: yes, the Met is clearly looking to diversify, and that's why they did this and Fire Shut Up in My Bones and Champion. So...affirmative action resulted in productions of three great operas. Tell me how this is a problem (okay, calling Champion "great" would be overstating it, but you know). This is nice and colorful, and I think I might have independently hit on the word "Afrofuturism" to describe the production even if the Met on Demand description didn't use it, BUT WE'LL NEVER KNOW NOW, WILL WE? Some real set-pieces, and a great cast, particularly Will Liverman in the title role and Victor Ryan Robertson in a dual role as a pimp called "Street" and Elijah Muhammed (I assume this is in the libretto, but even if not, it's appropriate, as the two characters represent two opposing forces vying for X's soul). If you look up Muhummed, you'll see that he DOES look uncannily similar to Robertson. Also, I want to highlight a small role that nonetheless blew me away, and that's Raehann Bryce-Davis as X's sister Ella. She only gets one significant scene, but man, what a huge, awesome voice. I initially thought she was a contralto; actually a mezzo, but definitely a low one. I'd love to see her in classical repertoire.

You'd think an opera about Malcolm X would be subversive, but I don't know, can something be subversive while accruing the cultural cachet of being performed at the Met? We're talking some postmodern simulacra shit here. I suppose the closest an opera may come is The Death of Klinghoffer, inasmuch as the Live in HD transmission was canceled due to protests by idiots, but they still performed it, so I dunno. Hey Met, how 'bout doing a live in HD of that NOW, in the current political context? That, even I have to admit, would be genuinely subversive.

Jules Massenet, Le Cid (1885)

 So Rodrigue (Le Cid) and his sweetheart Chimène want to get married, and given that their fathers both approve and Rodrigue's just been knighted, things seem to be going pret-ty darned well (there's a scene where the Infanta declares to Chimène her love for Rodrigue, suggesting a love triangle, but no, she just acknowledges that she can't have him and the idea is completely dropped--weird).  But at the same time this is happening, the King is planning to name a new governor for the Infanta, and Chimène's father, Le comte le Gormas, really wants the position.  But what's this?  The position is awarded to Rodrigue's father, Don Diègue (it's hard to keep all these French versions of Spanish names straight)!  Diègue tries to be conciliatory to Gormas, but the latter insults him and storms off, leaving him shaking with rage.  So, naturally, he prevails upon his son to seek revenge for him.  Rodrigue does briefly consider whether murdering his girlfriend's dad for rudeness might be a bad idea, but ultimately decides, hey, filial piety; what can you do.  So he, does (in a duel, so you can decide whether that technically constitutes murder).  His dad is super-psyched about this (he really is coming across as a bit of a psychopath, isn't he?), but Rodrigue is gloomy because he knows this is gonna fuck up his relationship.  And indeed, Chimène demands before the King that justice be done.  But what's this?  The Moors are attacking!  So judgment on Rodrigue is suspended as he's let off to lead the Spanish forces.  Before the battle, he meets with Chimène and sorta-kinda reconcile, though a resumption of their romance seems questionable.  But then he goes and wins the battle and earns the name "El Cid" (this is wildly at odds with the actual history, but it would be weirder if it weren't), and she decides, oh you scamp, I can't stay mad at you!  So that is that, though I dunno--I feel like even if she can forgive him, having his creepy dad looming over them all the time is still going to be an issue.

(And I do NOT know what that thing is about the Infanta's governor being such a peach position.  I mean, I get that it must have a lot of prestige attached to it, but what does it even entail?  And, let's face it, can old guys get away with jockeying to be the guardian, I guess, of young girls without it seeming pervy as hell?  I submit that it cannot.)

You really, really expect this to be a tragedy, don't you?  I mean, a knight killing his girlfriend's father out of a warped sense of honor?  This is Verdi stuff.  There are commonalities with La forza del destino.  I suppose you could argue that it's in line with some of Rossini's romances (like La donna del lago or Guillaume Tell), but I dunno, man.  Of course, if you happen to know the history, you'd know that this couple got married and did not die at this time, but come on, who would know that but a super-big nerd?

STILL.  I know I'm on record as being lukewarm about Massenet, for reasons that I can't explain or even really conceptualize--his work is square in the same wheelhouse as tons of opera that I love, so that's the deal?  Well...as it turns out, I may or may not have had a breakthrough, because I thought this was kinda good.  I dunno; maybe my sensibilities have changed or maybe it's just that I hadn't seen an opera of this sort for so long I was happy to accept anything--but I thought it was pretty all right, and in spite of the goofiness, I enjoyed the drama.  Maybe I should go back and rewatch some Massenet, or maybe not.  It is a mystery!

Le Cid was at one point available on youtube, in a mediocre-quality video taken from a 2000-ish TV broadcast from the Washington Opera starring Placido Domingo.  It's since been taken down.  I sure hope nobody had already downloaded it, because then they might reupload it.  I shudder to think.

Henry Purcell (more or less), Masque of Might (2023)

I simply MUST draw your attention to this awesome piece.

What I didn't know about Purcell, but now that I've examined his wikipedia page I do, is that the man was fantastically prolific in his short life.  But you don't necessarily hear a lot of his music, because a lot of it was written for miscellaneous celebrations or for semioperas that are never staged because they have no interest other than the music.  It's a sad state of affairs, so we have THIS, which highlights some lesser-known Purcell.

The idea is a little like the Met's Enchanted Island only Purcellsclusive, but with an important difference, also: The Enchanted Island used a completely new libretto, whereas this here uses the authentic seventeenth century texts, only slightly tweaking a few of them to match the plot better.

That story is an environmental fable about a dictator who comes to power who hates the environment and doesn't care about climate change and my god it is absolutely impossible to describe this without making it sound like the most dopey, heavy-handed thing imaginable.  I assure you, in practice it's much better than that.  Obviously, the words only sort of relate the putative story (there are also little pre-scene captions that help you follow along), but it's actually kind of amazing how much the story does, actually, work, albeit in a somewhat impressionistic way.  And no, really, I swear, it doesn't come across as overly dogmatic or heavy-handed.  All due credit to the creator, David Pountney.  You cannot deny the artistry.  Still not quite sure what the title means, though.

Is there any need to mention the music?  It's great, obvz.  I'm sure I've lamented his early death before, but man alive.  Since there's still a huge amount of rarely-performed Purcell out there, so if Pountney or someone else wanted to make a couple three more like this, well, I can't see myself objecting too strenuously.

Francesco Provenzale, La Stellidaura Vendicante (1674)

 

Steeeeelllaaaaa!

Right, now that we've gotten that out of our system...This one had been on my radar for a long time, but I just got to it.  The idea here is we've got this king, Orismondo, who's head over heels for Stellidaura, but she already has a lover, Armidoro--or Armadillo, as I preferred to think of him.  Orismondo is hella jealous, leading him to shoot and wound Armadillo, causing Stellidaura to vow revenge--there's a lot more of the heroine waving swords around than you usually see in these things.  There are misunderstandings caused by people getting the wrong letters and leaping to conclusions.  Armadillo protects Orismondo when Stellidaura, in disguise, is about to run him through ('cause he's just so gosh-darned chivalrous); she's sent to the dungeon, and Orismondo sends one of the comic-relief servants, Giampetro, to make her drink poison to kill her (still not knowing who she is).  Soon after, he learns who she is, but it's TOO LATE, she's already taken the poison...but since this is a baroque opera, it's NBD; it turns out Giampetro accidentally just gave her a sleeping potion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .  Finally, Orismondo reads in an, uh, book (visualized here as a letter in a bottle, which somehow makes even less sense) that Stellidaura is actually secretly his sister, so that...solves the problem?  I guess?  It seems like the sudden revelation that the person you really, really want to fuck is a blood relative would do odd things to your libido.  Or at the very least, make for a super-awkward time at family get-togethers.  Also, it's kind of surprising that there's not an alternate love interest for Orismondo.  But there you go.

I was a bit surprised by the voice types on display: only Armillo (the other servant) is sung by a countertenor; Orismondo and Armadillo are both tenors, which seems quite atypical--for all that the tenor eventually became the default hero role, it didn't play much of a part in Italian baroque opera (French is another story).  Still, there's quite a contrast between them, the one super-low and the other high, that it's easy to imagine that they were originally baritone and castrato roles, which would certainly have been more typical.  Still, it's fine.  Also, allegedly Giampetro is singing in dialect, which is supposed to be another innovation of the piece that, naturally, was lost on me.

I mean, this is a perfectly acceptable example of the thing that it is, so if you like that thing, as I do, you're sure to like it.  I have to admit, though, all the hype surrounding this, heralding it as a long-lost classic and all that, made me like it perhaps a bit less: because it's really not all that special.  The libretto is slight, and there are no musical moments that I found really transcendent.  Know what I'm sayin'?  

Still, I really want to see as many seventeenth-century operas as I can; according to my all-knowing list, I'm currently at an even forty, which seems like kind of a lot, and yet I still don't feel I really have a clear grasp of the development of opera in the seventeenth century, whereas I feel like I sort of do for the eighteenth and beyond.  It looks like I will have no choice but to watch more.  Darn!

Antonio Vivaldi, Il Giustino (1724)

A new-to-me Vivaldi opera!  Hooray!  

So here we have Anastasio, a Byzantine emperor, and Giustino, a peasant who became captain of the imperial guard and later an emperor in his own right (though not through murder, surprisingly--anyway, the opera doesn't get that far).  There's also the queen and a woman in love with Giustino and cross-dressing and romantic misunderstanding and an enemy king--all very typical opera seria stuff.

Musically, this is...well, it's not as though I have THAT clear a recollection of the specifics of the music in all the Vivaldi operas I've seen, but I had the subjective impression here that this may be the best.  It's just an absolute cavalcade of one musical delight after another.  It's staggering, really.  Great cast, as well; I was especially excited to see Raffaele Pe, who is rapidly becoming one of my favorite countertenors, as Anastasio.

The production, however...hmm.  So it definitely looks like a very traditional thing, and in some ways it is.  But in some ways, it's not, and I think it mainly just makes a the plot harder to follow.  It's unclear to me how much of the confusion stems from the libretto itself and how much from how it's presented.  It is very strange to me how many of the insufferable traditionalists who moan about any opera being placed in a new setting are praising this to the stars for being, well, traditional.  Really?  So the baffling business where Anastasio is presented as an opera composer and several scenes are presented as being from his work and it's just generally kind of baffling and presents the emperor as an extremely modern, non-baroque sort of character?  Or the fact that it ends with a possible assassin or something pointing a gun at him?  I mean, DAMN, is your criticism of non-traditional productions REALLY so surface-level that nothing beyond the costuming even registers with you?  Sheesh.  And this is one instance where, if you DID criticize the production, I'd actually be on your side.  You've lost a powerful ally in me!

Well, never mind.  Still an incredible piece of work.  GOD, I love baroque opera.  Why isn't Vivaldi more commonly staged?  He's brilliant.