Leoš Janáček, Jenůfa (1902)

That title there confuses me. Because wikipedia says (and has a poster from the premiere proving this) that the Czech title is Její pastorkyňa ("her stepdaughter"), but the English title is the main character's name? Why? Who decided that? Pretty weird.

Wikipedia--again--calls this "a grim story of infanticide and redemption," which made me expect some of the ol' Gritty Eastern European Realism, but while there certainly IS that, I was surprised by how sweetly sentimental it turns out to be. Definitely not what I was expecting.

Let's talk about the plot! Actually, I really seriously got into this, and it might be worth watching without knowing what's going to happen. But I'm going to talk about it anyway! So there! So we're all Czech peasants. Jenůfa is in love with Števa, who's going to inherit property and be rich; she's also secretly pregnant by him. Laca, his younger half-brother, is in love with Jenůfa. Števa is a drunken, womanizing layabout, and Laca is insanely jealous. She refuses to accept his attacks on her beau, and in a rage, he ends up sorta-kinda-half-accidentally slashing her cheek with a knife, for which he immediately feels remorse. Later, her baby is born; her stepmother (and de facto real mother) Kostelnička had kept the pregnancy secret by sending her off to Vienna, and no one knows about it. Števa shows up and learns about his son, whom he agrees to support as long as his name is kept out of this; he no longer loves Jenůfa to due her new scar and general outlook; he's engaged to a non-scarred girl. He leaves and Laca appears; he still wants to marry Jenůfa, having throughly repented of his earlier action, but he's not happy at the thought of having to raise Števa's child, to which Kostelnička's immediate response is to tell him that it's dead. After he leaves, she works herself up to do the deed (I don't know, maybe first ascertain whether Laca can maybe perhaps be reconciled to it rather than leaping immediately to infanticide? Just a thought), and then tells Jenůfa that it just kind of died. Laca comforts her and she agrees to marry him. But when it comes time for the wedding, the baby's corpse is found under the newly-melted ice. The people first blame Jenůfa, but Kostelnička tells them the truth and is taken off. Also, now that everyone knows about Števa, his fiancée leaves him, and no one will ever want to marry him, "not even a gypsy girl," and man, I could've lived without that comment. Oh well. Jenůfa tells Laca that they obviously can't get married now, but he still wants to, and they're in love. So there you have it.

Janáček's best-known opera is The Cunning Little Vixen, which I found a little baffling. I liked this one a lot better. The drama feels real, and, as noted above, I was swept up in it. You can certainly ask questions, like: how deep is Laca's repentance? Is this likely to be a happy marriage? This is one of those deals where one perhaps wants a little bit more detail than opera can realistically give. But I was basically happy to take it at face value. I think it works. The music is...well, mostly inobtrusive, I guess? I think I had a similar reaction to it as to Vixen, although it has its moments, my favorite being the wedding chorus near the end. This performance is very good, featuring another great performance by Nina Stemme in the title role--which, again, fits her very well. Eva Marton is similarly strong as Kostelnička, and Jorma Silvasti does a good job of making Laca go from seeming like a jerk to...not.

This is really good; I want to see more of Janáček's stuff. Also, I hope you appreciate the effort I went through to write this; I had to do a shitload of copy and pasting to get those Eastern European diacriticals. And yes, if I'd written this in a web browser I could've just held down the key, but that doesn't work in Openoffice, and in any case, even that doesn't work for the u with the circle over it. So.

Sergei Prokofiev, L'amour des trois oranges (1921)

Yup, the libretto is in French (wikipedia claims "because Russian would have been unacceptable to American audiences"--da fuq?), and yes, it's called "The love for three oranges." It's based on a faerie tale, but I gather it has its own weirdness to it, and it's a little difficult to describe the plot without sounding like you're having a stroke: first, there's an audience arguing over whether they want to see a tragedy or comedy or what. Then the action starts, and there's a hypochondriac prince, the son of the King of Clubs. He has to be made to laugh or he'll die, but there are schemers trying to stop this from happening, at least in part by reciting bad poetry to him, so they can take the throne, supported by a sorceress, Fata Morgana. The king decides to have a carnival to make the prince laugh, with the help of a clown, Truffaldino. It seems like it's not going well, but then Fata Morgana has a pratfall and the prince laughs at her, so she curses him by making him obsessed with a love for three oranges. This works immediately, and he drags Truffaldino off with him to look for the oranges, which are in a witch's lair. So they outwit the witch's cook (a woman played by a baritone--a reverse trouser role?) and get the oranges and escape. The oranges keep getting bigger until they hatch one by one into faerie princesses, the first two of which die of thirst, it being a desert (surprisingly morbid). But the audience gives the prince water to save the third one, and in spite of some scheming, the day is saved. The conspirators are going to be executed, but Fata Morgana spirits them away. That is all.

Wikipedia quotes some baffled initial reviews: "The work is intended, one learns, to poke fun. As far as I am able to discern, it pokes fun chiefly at those who paid money for it." I wouldn't say that, but I have to admit...I didn't love this. That same wikipedia article calls it "satirical," but I would be hard-pressed to say what it's satirizing, exactly. I still like Prokofiev's music a lot; let there be no doubt about that. And yet, somehow, this was not my all-time favorite thing. Maybe it should be; I liked The Nose well enough, so obviously I don't need an opera to have a plot that makes sense or is emotionally involving. But...I don't know. This production is a reasonable thing, minimalistic in a way that suits the absurd story, but do I have anything much to say about it? I feel like I really just wanted to register that I did in fact see it.

Also, there's a bit where the villains replace the princess with the conspirators' servant, who it looks like he's going to have to marry. "A negress!" he shouts in despair. Which...hum.

Richard Wagner, Das liebesverbot (1836)

This is Wagner's second completed opera. It was a failure at the time, and disavowed by the composer; the account on wikipedia of that premiere is pretty funny:

Poorly attended and with a lead singer who forgot the words and had to improvise, it was a resounding flop and its second performance had to be cancelled after a fist-fight between the prima donna's husband and the lead tenor broke out backstage before the curtain had even risen; only three people were in the audience. It was never performed again in Wagner's lifetime.

Fun! It's certainly not commonly performed nowadays, and I certainly wouldn't have gone out of my way to see it, but I found a productionon youtube, so what the hell? It's his only comedy other than Meistersinger, so...bam.

That title translates as "the ban on love," and if nothing else, GOOD GOD is that ever thematically in keeping with Wagner's later career. If nothing else, that is a cool thing about it. It's based on Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, a play which I've never seen nor read, and I really ought to just take a month or so and read all of Shakespeare straight through. Seems like a cultural imperative. But anyway, I can tell you that what's happened is that The King has left the country and put a governor named Friedrich in charge. Friedrich is strait-laced and puritanical, so he's having all the fun things shut down: bars and brothels and general places of amusement. Some guy named Claudio is being sent to jail thence to be executed for having had a love affair, which is now illegal. So he gets his friend Luzio to go find his sister Isabella in a convent to get her to plead his behalf. It turns out Friedrich is a big fat hypocrite, having seduced and abandoned another nun, Marianne. Be that as it may, Isabella goes to agitate on behalf of her brother, but he wants to make a Scarpia-type deal for his release (and seriously, I'd be surprised if Puccini was actually familiar with this non-famous opera, but the similarities are remarkable). So she gets Marianne out of the convent and tricks him into engaging in the merriment that he'd condemned, and there is rejoicing, the end.

I thought this was pretty good, actually. It's no Meistersinger, but it's such a different sort of thing that the comparison may lack meaning. Is it the case that Wagner's insistence on the intensity of all this merriment feels a bit forced? Sure. I think he didn't have a sufficiently light touch to make this work perfectly on its own terms, but there's still some fun stuff to be seen, and the music? Well, it certainly feels like proto-Wagner to me. Not bad.

This is a 2016 Teatro Real performance, in a very modernized production, with a lot of the action in a glitzy red-light district and with cell phones and everything. Very extravagant costumes. Also, a funny thing during the overture where there's a big portrait of Wagner that's been crudely animated to make the neck and mouth move to the music. The whole thing works pretty well for the most part (one strange distraction, though: when the "king" appears at the end, it's clearly meant to be Angela Merkel, which...wha?), although a lot of the performances are a bit generic. The singing's fine, but I feel that a lot of the actors weren't really getting into their characters, making this less than it could have been (not that I think they're particularly vividly written anyway). The huge, obvious standout here is a not-very-recognizable Christopher Maltman as Friedrich, and seriously, he is a wonder (as well as the only name I know in the cast). I would go so far as to say that, adjusting for role quality, this is easily his best performance I've ever seen. His mannerisms, body language, facial contortions (sometimes reminding me of Rick from The Young Ones)--it all comes together to bring to life what wouldn't inherently be a super-interesting character. Manuela Uhl as Isabella is also pretty good, as is Ante Jerkunica the constable Brighella, but honestly, it's really worth seeing for Maltman alone.

I have to say one thing about the subtitles just because it's SUCH a bizarre quirk: every time the word "I'll" appears, the rest of the line is cut off. There must be a reason for this, but I can't imagine what it could be.

Arrigo Boito, Mefistofele (1868/75)

Yes! it's anotherFaust opera, this time by a man best-known as the librettist for Verdi's Otello and Falstaff. ARE YOU EXCITED?!? Well, you should be. I'd been wanting to see this one for a long time, so when someone on the Met in HD facebook group linked to this production, I was THERE, baby!  I'm not clear how long it'll be up, and I couldn't figure out how to download it, so better see it now rather than later.

Well...yes, it's the Faust story, but unlike Gounod's and Berlioz' operas, which were based (give or take) on Part I of Goethe's Faust, this one is based (give or take) on both parts. So you're gonna see some stuff you didn't see in those, along with Faust being redeemed in the end. You're also going to see the part where Mephistopheles makes a Job-like bet with God for Faust's soul, which isin the first part but which is in neither of the other two operas, perhaps having been considered a bit too potentially ticklish. The thing still isn't exactly what you'd call tightly plotted, but that does not matter even a little.

Really, this is terrific. The music is dramatic and tuneful and why do we not hear more about Boito? This is his only completed opera, but he also has another, about Nero, that was almost finished and is sometimes performed. I'd like to see it. ANYWAY. If you're just going to see part of it, don't miss the climactic Walpurgisnacht sequence at the end of Act II. Terrific.

Verdi allegedly said of his future librettist's work that it "aspires to originality but succeeds only at being strange." Sick burn, dude. Is it true? Is this strange? Well...I feel like it's really only strange to the extent that Goethe's original is strange, so I would say...kind of. But this production--which I thought was just awesome--definitely amps up the strangeness. There are these long, shimmery curtain tassels that sort of represent Heaven very effectively, and we see various historical figures in the Heavenly choir, but the main thing is this giant skull that's on-stage throughout most of the production, with eye holes where characters can stand or sit. I think "strange" is really the only word. Except for "cool." That would be another word.

But what I reallylike here is the presentation of Mephistopheles himself. Faust is, there's no denying it, about as dull as usual, but his Adversary really lights up the stage. Producers staging the opera could really present him any way they wanted, but here, in the person of Erwin Schrott (former paramour of Anna Netrebko and father of her child), they have chosen to depict him as this kind of camp, glammy musclehead whom you could picture on Jersey Shore,which sounds totally bizarre and maybe is, but is also reallyeffective. You would never ever envision the character this way, and that's maybe what makes it work: you can't just slot it into your common tropes re demonic tempters. It's really vital and alive, and Erwin Schrott's acting actually makes the character seem sorta kinda sympathetic, which is a feat. Really, just great, although I have to say, I still kinda want to see this badass-looking production:

EUROTRASH HEAVEN.

Richard Wagner, Tristan und Isolde (1865)

So at the beginning of Donizetti's L'elisir d'amore, the heroine Adina is reading from a book about Tristan and Iseult and the basic gist of it is "wow! Look at this delightful story! At first Iseult didn't like Tristan, but then she drank the potion, and she fell in love with him! How fantastic! If only we could have a potion like that!" If she had read on, she might find that the story became somewhat less cheerful. Though actually, at least here, that set-up isn't even right: it's not that he's in love with her first; neither of them is until the potion comes up.  Donizetti just presents it that way to set the plot in motion.  Anyway. Here's this.

At first I wasn't too sure about this, and I was all ready to write a fairly indifferent entry to the effect that "yeah, Wagner's music, but man, it's kinda boring." I had a pretty dramatic conversion at some point, however, because now I think this fucking rules, to the extent that I'm easily willing to forgive the occasional somewhat wobbly plotting.

I think I got thrown off initially because the opening is a little weird: the idea is that Tristan's bring Isolde over from Ireland to be King Marke's wife (don't try to think about the morality of this forced betrothal stuff; the opera doesn't address it, and it'll just make you crazy). She's angry at him because, as you would be, because he killed her previous fiancé, and there's no love lost between them until they both drink this potion she's made, that was supposed to be poison but actually turned out to be this love potion. This part is intentionally unclear: is it in fact a potion, or is that just an excuse for them to act on their feelings? Or is it the poison after all, and this is what leads them to their ultimate tragic end? Whatever the case, though, it's pretty awkward: as soon as they drink it they're instantly in love and the very good reasons that she had hated him are just instantly forgotten, seemingly. You'd think at some point someone would at least comment on the strangeness of the whole situation.

Well, REGARDLESS, things pick up after that. The second act--some time later--is mostly them declaring their love for each other in that rapturous, typically Wagnerian way; in the third, they're separated, he's been mortally wounded, and can she make it in time to save him? NO. This is the most dubious plotting of all: Marke discovers their affair, and Tristan is mortally wounded in the scuffle. So okay...but then in the third act, he's been taken far away, for some reason, and Isolde's coming for him, and if she's totally free to do that, why didn't she treat his wound while they were still together? It really makes no sense.

But never mind that, because the music and the high emotion here just kick all kinds of ass. More than ever before, I understand what people mean when they call Wagner over-the-top, but it's to damned good effect, and I was one hundred percent swept away. This production features Nina Stemme as Isolde; she's good at projecting this kind of deranged intensity that suited her well in Elektra and suits her well here. As Tristan, we have Stuart Skelton, an Australian tenor I'd never heard before. He definitely has the necessary intensity for the role, though he does look somewhat simian (Stuart, if you're reading this, that's not meant as in insult! You're great!). Also, there's René Pape as King Marke; the role doesn't amount to much more than an extended cameo, but the character's nobility is really important to the plot, I think, and Pape is good as always.

This production would drive a purist up the wall, being a present-day military-themed thing. I thought it was...fine? Certainly better than the updated HolländerI saw. I had no problem with it, though I don't know that it exactly contributed to enhancing the story either. I have no strong feelings! I will however probably check it out in another production, just because...well, because it's great.

Gioachino Rossini, La Cenerentola (1817)

Yup, I was right.

This has some interesting divergences from what I think of as the "original" Cinderella story (though that word probably doesn't mean much applied to a folktale). The most immediately obvious difference is that there's a stepfather (Don Magnifico) rather than mother (Cinderella's own mother having died). Apparently--shocking!--he squandered her inheritance on his own less-appealing spawn. Then there's the fact that there's no Faerie Godmother--instead there is, somewhat murkily, a "philosopher" who basically plays that role. How does he get La Cenerentola (here named Angelina) all dolled up for the ball? Not apparent. A bit of magical realism, we can perhaps say. Instead of anything to do with shoes, she gives the Prince one of a pair of bracelets and tells him that if he can find her again and thus match the two of them up, they can get married. Also--last important thing--a big part of the plot involves the Prince having switched places with his valet Dandini in order to observe in secrecy.

Having watched this back-to-back with the Massenet, the reasons that this succeeds while that one doesn't really stand out. First and foremost, the romance is a lot more satisfying. Also, Angelina's just a much better version of the character than Lucette, who came, I would say, dangerously close to only being "good" by virtue of being put upon rather than by anything she actually does. The comedy works better, as does the drama, the music--or so I thought--is much more infectious...damn. The bits you should listen to to get an idea are "Sia qualunque delle figlie," Magnifico's aria at the beginning of Act II where he fantasizes about what his life will be like when he's the father of a queen, and "Si, ritrovarla io guiro," the Prince's impassioned aria about his determination to find this mysterious woman. In this production there's so much applause afterwards that Juan Diego Flórez has to come back on stage to acknowledge it (well, whether he "has" to or not, he does, is the point).

I chose this one because I thought it would be interesting to see Joyce DiDonato playing the same role, give or take, and indeed. I like her better here just because the whole thing is better, and she is thus elevated. I hadn't seen Diego Flórez in quite some time, but he's a terrific prince, and then you have Alessandro Corbelli as Magnifico...crikey! The production is traditional with some good comic touches. It gets a lot of mileage out of a three-legged sofa.

Interesting thing about Rossini is that while he lived to the age of seventy-six, he wrote forty-ish operas between the ages of eighteen and thirty-seven and then, for reasons that are still debated, just...stopped. I guess when you're this successful, you can, at any rate, afford to do that. At any rate, it's obvious why this one would be a crowd-pleaser. What's not to like? I foresee a lot more Rossini in my future.

Jules Massenet, Cendrillon (1899)

Well, I saw this one. It's a Cinderella story, as you might have gathered. It includes most of the usual story beats, though not necessarily with the levels of emphasis you'd expect. It does not, however, feature anyone getting their feet mutilated, which is probably for the best.  No anthropomorphic mice either, thank goodness.

So it's all cute and everything, but somehow...I feel underwhelmed. You need a certain kind of insouciant glitter for a story like this, and I just didn't really feel that here. The music, to me, had its moments but wasn't by and large that gripping. The business with The Prince and Cendrillon (Lucette, is her real name) is underdeveloped, which might just make this a regular Cinderella story, admittedly, but there are these pathos-laden arias which somehow feel unearned and tonally dissonant. And her dopey father is just annoying, though again, why would you expect otherwise. Hmm. Is it possible that I'm really just objecting to the Cinderella story tout court?

You certainly can't complain about the cast. Top honors, in my estimate, go to Kathleen Kim as a suitably sparkly Faerie Godmother, who gets some fun coloratura to boot. It also features STEPHANIE FUCKING BLYTHE as the evil (although "evil" might be pushing it here) stepmother, which was actually what prompted me to watch this one in the first place. She gets a few good vamping moments, but again, I feel more could have been made of the character. Alice Coote is good (if overdetermined) as The Prince, and Joyce DiDonato in the title role, fine, but again, this central romance, if you want to call it that, does not overwhelm.

I also think the production didn't really help matters. There's this conceit where the text of the original French story is printed over the background screens, and a few props have big letters on them. This seems like it should be cool in theory--and maybe it is in practice, even--but it feel like a gimmick that just sort of...sits there. Inertly, and you sort of think, well, okay. And? It does not seem to serve the text as well as it could, and nor does the distinctly forced whimsy at the dance, which mainly consists of the women wearing OUTRAGEOUS costumes and the royalty and courtiers doing Silly Walks. I mean...that only goes so far, I feel.

Oh, I don't know, it wasn't painful to sit through or anything, but I strongly suspect that when I get around to it, I will enjoy Rossini's La Cenerentolamore.