Opera Digest

So I've seen a fair few operas lately that I haven't written about, on account of being distracted by...stuff. When you get a backlog like this, you realize, man, I'm never going to get to these, am I? But I want to! So let's just do some brief capsule reviews.

Sergei Prokofiev, The Gambler (1929)

Based on a short Dostoevsky novel that I haven't read. I couldn't speak for the book, but this adaptation is oddly directionless and, I would say, non-operatic. It's about a tutor for a family who follows them on vacation in some European resort town. He's in love with the daughter who is cold to him. And the family needs money so they're waiting for this matriarch to die, but she doesn't. And then he wins a lot of money that he hopes will allow him to win the daughter's affections but doesn't. Finis. Actually, the climactic gambling scene is kinda cool. And being from the Mariinsky Theatre, this production is probably about as good as it'll get. But eh. Not really sold.

Jacques Offenbach, Orphée aux enfers (1858)

Offenbach's most famous operetta, possibly. Features the can-can music that a lot of people in my age range are familiar with as the invincibility music from Super Mario Land. Pretty amusing burlesque, I think, but I am forced to admit that I was as jetlagged as I've ever been when I saw this, and I don't think I quite got the full effect.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Die Entführung aus dem Serail (1782)

This is the last major Mozart opera I had not seen. European dude's beloved, along with their two comedy servants, are captured and taken to this Ottoman palace. They have to fend off, respectively, the lovelorn pasha and the savage seraglio-keeper. This is dope as fuck. Seriously, the only Mozart operas that could make a case for being better are Figaroand Giovanni, and I'd call it a toss-up, really. There is, obviously, a certain amount of Orientalism here; it's the sort of thing that could easily shade into something really ugly, but David McVicar's great production deftly avoids that. It plays up the original setting to the hilt, and also makes it clear that, in spite of being different from the Europeans, the pasha is actually admirable and in some way to be envied. Anyway, love love love this.

John Adams, The Death of Klinghoffer (1991)

Adams' second opera is about the 1985 hijacking of a vacation cruise in the Mediterranean by members of the PLF who demanded the release of Palestinian prisoners; ultimately, one man, a wheelchair-bound American Jew, was murdered. Here's a thing that maddens me: the Met was going to do a Live in HD production of this in 2014. But then idiot fucking brownshirt protesters got wind of it and started hollering that it was anti-Semitic, and...they backed down. Seriously, a real low-light for the Met, second only to employing a child molester for forty years. Spoilers: no, it is fucking NOT anti-Semitic, unless you subscribe to the idea that nothing Israel does should ever be criticized in any fashion. But, of course, none of these protesters had ever seen it; they were just interested in being part of a mindless, howling mob. It's actually quite balanced; it humanizes both sides of the conflict...which, of course, is a BIG PROBLEM for some. Anyway, because there was no Live in HD performance, I could only watch this film version, which is substantially different than the stage work. In the behind-the-scenes feature, Adams describes the opera as often being more like an oratorio, with these long, somewhat abstract narrative pieces. The opera substantially fills in the story, showing these over scenes depicting the characters' backgrounds. It's a good idea and it basically works, though apparently about twenty minutes of material were cut, which bums me out. It's a good production nonetheless, and Christopher Maltman is highly appealing as the sympathetic ship's captain. I have to admit, though, musically this did not blow me away. I thought it was less interesting than either Nixon in China or Doctor Atomic. You'd think it'd be more so, given that this one has more of an actual plot, but I wasn't that excited. Still wish I could've seen the Live in HD version, though.

Ferruccio Busoni, Doktor Faust (1924)

My fourth Faust opera, and a substantially different beast than any of the previous. One thing you'll notice immediately is that this bucks convention by making Faust a baritone and Mephistopheles a tenor, but in practice, that doesn't really feel unusual or strange. The opera itself definitely is, however. Busoni was definitely going his own way with the story, and it frequently gets somewhat abstruce. You'll also note that Marguerite, surprisingly, is not a character here; she's presented as having been seduced and died prior to the opera's events. Her place is taken by an unnamed duchess who doesn't play a large role. I do like how we get a scene here of Faust basically just using Mephistopheles to do magic tricks to impress people. That's fun, and Thomas Hampson is excellent in the role--this is the one opera where I'd say he's a better character than Mephy. The music here is also great, very Wagnerian (well, your more restrained Wagner--think Parsifal). Honestly, this is definitely my least favorite Faust opera I've seen, but it's still pretty good. This has nothing to do with anything, but I want to note that this list of operas based on Faust includes Doctor Atomic,

which...come on. Just because you have the vague idea that the development of the atomic bomb involves some kind of Faustian bargain doesn't mean that the opera itself supports that idea in any way.

Lee Hoiby, Bon Appétit! (1989)

Can an opera feature only one character and be only twenty minutes long? Well, that's what this does and is, whatever you want to call it. The version I saw, from just a month ago at the Des Moines opera, appears to no longer be on youtube, but I'm sure this one is fine. What it is is an opera about Julia Childs. Well, "about" might not be the best word; the libretto is text taken verbatim from an episode of her TV show. She demonstrates how to make a chocolate cake. The version I saw starred mezzo soprano Joyce Castle, who does a very good job of looking and sounding like Childs if she'd been an opera singer. Slight, naturally, but engaging and funny and well worth seeing.

Igor Stravinsky, The Rake's Progress (1951)

This could much more easily be described as a Faust story than Doctor Atomic,I'll tell you that much. Tom Rakewell is going to marry his sweetheart, Anne, but then this mysterious Nick Shadow tells him he's suddenly inherited all this money and he goes to the city to sort things out, where he instantly becomes corrupted. He marries a bearded lady, Baba the Turk, on Nick's suggestion out of some sort of will-to-power thing. He comes up in a dream with the idea for a machine to turn stones into bread, and thinks he can use this to benefit mankind, but instead is ruined. Nick demands his soul, but agrees to play a game where Tom has to guess which three cards from a deck he's chosen. Tom improbably wins and Nick is sent back to Hell, but not before he curses Tom to lose his mind. Now Tom thinks he's Adonis and is looking for his Venus. He's in an insane asylum and Anne comes to visit him but realizes she can't reach him. The end. It's a strange plot, but that's clearly intentional, so one can't complain. Well...I say that, but I still think it's legit to complain that Tom's "downfall" isn't really a downfall; I can't emphasize enough how instantly it happens. The music is pretty good, though I wasn't wild about it. The English-language libretto co-written by WH Auden; the wikipedia entry neglects to say how this came to pass, but I'd love to know. The production I saw is this,from the late seventies. Not bad. Samuel Ramey stands out as a sinister Nick Shadow. The Met has done it with STEPHANIE FUCKING BLYTHE as Baba the Turk, but alas, there's no video available.

Antonio Salieri, Tarare(1787)

Goddamn, man. This is strange and self-indulgent and tonally dissonant and just ALL OVER THE PLACE, and I loved it. The libretto is by Pierre Beaumarchais, who also wrote the Figaro plays; this is his only libretto, written specifically for Salieri. You will definitely see echos of Die Entführung aus dem Serail; Atar is the evil king who has kidnapped Astasie, the wife of his general Tarare. How to save her? The other main character is Calpigi, Atar's comic-relief chief eunuch (who, interestingly, is supposed to be a castrato, though he's sung by a tenor). He's great. As I said, this is all over the place; characters don't get enough time to really get an idea of who they are, and there are parts of the plot that are kind of inscrutable. There's a long dance sequence in the third act which I thought was great but which might test the patience of some. It's kind of anti-monarchist, but not necessarily in a coherent way. And for what it's worth, Beaumarchais does not seem to know the difference between Muslims and Hindus. Oh well! And good god, forget about the opera itself; the music is sumptuous. I like this far more than his Falstaff. No, it's not as good as Entführung, but almost nothing is, so that doesn't say much. It should put to rest for good and all the idea that Salieri was a mediocrity. Naturally, there's only one video recording available, but fortunately, it's really good, with sumptuous sets and costumes and very good performances all 'round.

John Blow, Venus and Adonis (1683)

I saw this from youtube, but again, I can't find it now. I probably had the vpn on and set to some different place or other. But anyway, this seems to be the earliest English opera. It's pretty straightforward; Venus and Adonis are in love but then he goes hunting and is mortally wounded by a darn ol' boar. And she is sad. But in the meantime, there's some comedy stuff with cupid, here presented as a woman. It's just an hour long; there's some extremely pleasant early baroque music, so I did not feel my time was being wasted, but as you might expect from such an early think, it's a bit inchoate. The characters are, well, they are the mythological people they are, without their own individuality. I know you could say the same about Monteverdi's Orfeo,but that's still a lot better. This is fine; I don't object to it. I wouldn't call it a major work beyond its pride-of-place, however.

Karol Szymanowski, Król Roger (1924)

You know what they say: you never forget your fourth Polish opera. They say that, right? Probably? It's also my first opera that starts with 'K,' which is a major milestone. You'd think there would be some starting with "king," but that speaks to the relative paucity of English-language opera. "Król" is Polish for "king," however.

"Roger" inevitably seems like a comical name for a king, you know? Like that old John Goodman comedy King Ralph. Ralph is a funny name for a king, and Roger is too. Or so I think. But this is definitely not a comedy, and there's no need to worry; the name doesn't ruin it. It's loosely based on The Bacchae, but only loosely. Roger is...the king, and his mind is troubled. And there's an engimatic prophet known only as "The Shepherd" whom the people alternately want to be killed for blasphemy and want to follow. Roger, too, is torn on how to treat the guy, whether to have him executed or let him go or what. And although he's very seductive at first, talking about nature and whatnot, he gradually takes on a more sinister aspect, and everyone goes off to follow him, including Roger's wife Roxana. He follows them and there is ecstactic, bacchanal dancing, followed by an indeterminate conclusion, though unlike the putative source material, nobody here seems to die. So.

As Roger, Mariusz Kwiecien surely has the most meaty role I've ever seen him in, although really, Saimir Pirgu as The Prophet has a role that's probably more fun to play and to watch as well. He's great; why haven't I seen him before? This performanceis spectacular, though also a little abstruse (well, that's probably to an extent the opera itself). It prominently features a giant head, in which things happen representing Roger's inner turmoil. This works well enough, although I'm not sure if said turmoil is really adequately depicted. The music is good throughout, though the most awesome thing, clearly, is the climactic orgiastic dancing scene. It's actually not entirely clear--intentionally, you have to think--whether The Prophet is a wholly evil figure or not, though here said climactic scene is accompanied by book-burning, which certainly seems to give a definitive idea of what the producers think.

Different than the norm, if there is a norm. Characters who aren't exactly emotionally engaging, but intriguing and cool and well worth seeing.

Ferenc Erkel, Hunyadi László (1844)

Here we have Erkel's second opera. He's best known for Bánk bán, which...well, I was not in a great frame of mind when I saw it, so I think I probably underrated it a bit. I think it's probably very good if not great. Well, that's that, but this is this.

It's sort of hard to understand this at first, just because there are all these Hungarian names and it's a cultural context that we, by which I mean me, are not really familiar with. You sort of just have to go with it until things become clearer, although honestly, at the end, I stillwasn't clear who exactly the title character was meant to be (turns out, per wikipedia, he's the son of a famous general who defended Hungary against the Ottoman Empire). Anyway, the weak and insecure king, also named László (yeah, thanks for that), is freaked out about possible plots against him, so he tacitly gives one of his advisors, his uncle, permission to have Hunyadi assassinated. But he learns about the plot and survives, killing the uncle, and the king "forgives" him to avoid personal exposure. He's going to marry his fiancée Mária, and everything's great, but the king is also in love with her, and her evil father, Gara, convinces the king that Hunyadi should be executed so he can have her. Why? Really, really not clear; apparently he thinks he can thus become king, but...really, who knows. It seems like a situation where Erkel, having determined that this was to be a tragedy, figured out a way in retrospect to make it into one. So, anyway, he's executed and nobody's happy. Well, okay, Gara is presumably happy, and maybe the king, although he abruptly vanishes after okaying the execution. Anyway, la. All I know about Hungarian history I learned from this and Bánk bán, so I'm just going to assume that this whole country has never known anything other than over-the-top, bloodsoaked grimness.

So yes, grim, but I must say, a pretty great opera. Erkel's music is really spectacular, and there are some fantastic individual moments, including Gara's villain aria and a wonderful third-act love duet between Hunyadi and Mária before everything goes all pear-shaped. And to think: this is only available in any form because of a 1977 German (I think) teleplay. It's really well-executed (yeah, I generally prefer films of actual theatrical performances, but I don't mind) and all the Hungarian singers I'd never heard of do a fine job. The guy playing the king was particularly interesting, with a voice not quite like anything I'd heard before: a very high tenor who at times sounds very much like a countertenor. Interesting. I really want to see more Erkel operas (he wrote eight of them), but this and Bánk bán,are the only ones currently available in any form. this article says that Hungary's current hard-right government is spending a lot of money funding the opera--in a nationalistic way; it sucks that the government has to be what it is, obviously, but you'd think that it would at least mean we'd get to see more performances from the guy who is, after all, considered Hungary's national composer. Get on it, you horrible fascist goons!

Antonio Salieri, Falstaff (1799)

For a long time I'd kinda wanted to see a Salieri opera, but that feeling became more urgent after I read this New Yorker article. I suppose most people are aware by this point that his alleged rivalry with Mozart is overstated to say the least, mainly fueled by paranoia from the Mozart side. I've never seen Amadeus. Maybe it's super-good, and maybe I should see it (though all told, I'm definitely more likely to see Rimsky-Korsakov's Mozart and Salieri, if I get the chance), but it just feels unfair that this guy should be so relentlessly smeared. Jeez.

Anyway, Falstaff. As you would guess, it's based on The Merry Wives of Windsor, same as the more famous opera by this title, so if you know the plot of that one, you basically know the plot of this one: Falstaff tries to seduce married women for money; isntead gets humiliated. One big difference between this and Verdi is that this includes the scene of Falstaff dressing in women's clothing to escape putative danger; I read that Verdi lamented that he couldn't fit it in, but it might be for the best--not that it's notably bad or anything, but "find new ways to take Falstaff down a notch" does get a trifle repetitive.

The music. I mean, it's not Mozart, but it's nor horrifically anti-Mozartian or anything like that. It is indeed perfectly fun and pleasant and well worth anyone's time. This production stars the late great John Del Carlo, who is, naturally extremely game--he also played Verdi's version, and it seems like a role he was born for. This opera includes several scenes--not in Shakespeare--with Alice Ford in disguise as a German to bring messages to Falstaff (featuring amusing bits of mangled German and French), and Teresa Ringholz sells it well. Honestly, the non-Falstaff cast doesn't get that much to do, but they do it well.

Musically, there's not much point in comparing this to Verdi; they're by different composers in different times writing in different idioms. Apples to oranges. But there are several differences in the plot which, I feel, make the latter a definitively superior experience. First, Salieri's version gets rid of the young lovers Anne (Nanneta in Verdi) and Fenton, and they're pretty conspicuous by their absence. Until they were gone, I didn't realize how important they were to the emotional heart of the story. And second--maybe more fundamentally--there's this: in Verdi, at the end, Falstaff is humbled yet also triumphant. That's the point; in spite of his coniving, his comic vitality is important and to be celebrated. Here, he's...just chastened. I think Verdi is closer in spirit to Shakespeare, though I haven't read or seen the play; regardless, it works a lot better than Salieri's just sorta trailing-off.

Still, I liked it, and I'm going to watch more from Salieri.

Sergei Rachmaninoff, The Miserly Knight (1905)

Pretty intense stuff. Somehow, a title like that just makes me think: comedy. 'Cause misers are funny, usually. Maybe it's just extreme amounts of Scrooge McDuck exposure making me think that, but hell, even though his story is ultimately a morality tale, even pre-redemption Ebenezer Scrooge is a broadly comic figure. So...yes. Of course, this sort of avarice is really a fictional conceit, or at least not a modern one. You look at our current vile, porcine billionaires, and sure, they do their damnedest to make sure they never have to pay any taxes or anything like that, but they're not miserly in the sense of agonizing over spending money on food or anything like that. It's a different sort of mindset, I think.

Well, anyway, this is not comic at all. I'd go so far as to say this is the starkest depiction of this sort of miserliness that you'll ever see. It's based on a Pushkin drama, a simple story, short, with sort of stark, minimal music, and, notably, no female roles. The Knight, who as far as I know doesn't have a name, is miserly. His son Albert wants money from him but can't get it. The Knight gloats about his money and is enraged at his son, refusing all demands, and then he dies. And that's all.

Sergei Leiferkus is extremely impressive in the title role; the second act--about a half hour--is just him--an impressive endurance test for sure. Richard Berkeley-Steele as his tortured son is also excellent, as are the minor roles. This production really plays up the tortured, nightmarish nature of the thing. It also features a silent role, a sort of demon child scarily played by Matilda Leyser, crawling around the stage and through the rigging in an unnatural, spider-like way, all representing the deadly sin in question in a tangible way. That was an inspired touch.

The wikipedia page says that "the characterization of the moneylender, who is identified in the story as being Jewish, has been criticized as anti-Semitic." But is this true? Well...no, not unless you think the bare existence of a Jewish moneylender is per se anti-Semitic--and of course, Jews were pushed into that role because Good Christians thought usury was sinful, but apparently they thought they could trick God by having Jews take on the role. Evidently they thought God wasn't that bright. AT ANY RATE, no, I wouldn't say that's a problem.

Franco Alfano, Cyrano de Bergerac (1936)

Alfano is mainly known for having completed Turandot after Puccini's death, but he also wrote some operas of his own. This...is one of them.

As you'd expect, it's based on Edmond Rostand's play (I'd known the story, sort of, but I'd only actually seen the Steve Martin movie Roxanne). Cyrano is a soldier and a nobleman who's a talented fighter and poet but alas has a big nose. He's in love with Roxane, but unfortunately, she's in love with another cadet, Christian de Neuvillette. His general self-consciousness about his nose leads him to believe that he's ugly and that it's only natural that she'd go for the more normal-nosed Christian. Christian is also incredibly inarticulate, though, so Cyrano agrees to help him out in that regard and sends her all kinds of letters; Christian ends up by concluding that since she fell in love with him based on these letters, she's actually in love with Cyrano and he should tell her the truth. However, there's a battle and before this can happen Christian is killed. It's certainly a bit of a difficult situation. "I was secretly writing love letters to a woman on behalf of a dumb guy, and he said I should tell her the truth, but then he died. What's the least awkward way to do this?" This is a question, probably, for Dear Prudence. Welp, how he deals with this is by not saying anything as she joins a nunnery and he's her platonic friend for fifteen years until he gets brained by a log falling on him, possibly by accident and possibly as an assassination attempt, it's not really clear; anyway, she realizes the truth and says she loves him, but he dies.

NOW. It's true that this is indeed how the historical Bergerac died, and yet, that somehow fails to make it more satisfying. If you didn't know it was an actual thing, you'd assume that Rostand had just thought "hmm, this is a crackerjack tragedy, but I need a good reason for the lead character to die," and them came up with the most maladroit possible solution. The fact that that's not how it happened doesn't make it seem less...silly. He suffers a fatal yet slow-acting concussion that kills him yet allows him to be as eloquent as ever in the meantime? Okay. Sure, it's opera, things like this happen, but usually at least a little less goofily. This is on the level of Desdemona belting out a final aria after being fatally strangled. Still, looking beyond that (and if you can't look beyond things, maybe opera's not for you), I still think the plot basically works and like it a lot. One thing I found notable is the way Roxane really wants Christian to say super-passionate, romantic-sounding things to her and can't love him if he doesn't. I mean, sure. You want your lover to be passionate and eloquent. But the feeling I got here was that the opera was kind of disregarding the actually, you know, bedrock feeling that hopefully would underlie the flowery langauge and counting the language itself as everything. I don't know what to do with that insight. Maybe a bit of proto-postmodernism creeping in.

Well, and I like the music a lot, which is maybe the most important thing. Lot of good love arias from the title character--here played very effectively by Roberto Alagna with a convincing-looking artificial proboscis--as well as a quite moving one to the soldiers about their homeland (I did find this on youtube, but now I can't--I never realized until I started using a VPN how many videos are simply invisible in some territories--here it is sans subtitles). Nathalie Manfrino honestly doesn't get that much to do as Roxane, but Richard Troxell is quite good as the goofy yet ultimately tragic Christian. Anyway. Good opera. Recommended.