Alta reina

Rachelle, Rachelle, Rachelle.

But perhaps it's dangerous to say her name three times — she is a witch, after all. A witch whose spell over me is stronger than ever tonight. And unlike Ruggiero, mine's not an involuntary state. I tried the ring on but there were no illusions to see through, it's all real. She's as outrageously brilliant as she seems so I'm staying put right here in her thrall.

She's back from the evil illness which kept her out of several performances, including, tragically, the one recorded for broadcast. I have missed her desperately. You'd think that such extravagant longing as mine might have swelled my expectations beyond reality, that when she finally returned I'd be perhaps a little disappointed. You'd be wrong. Her magic is strong; her reality exceeded my expectations, she was more magnificent even than I thought I remembered — a difficult feat, believe me.

Her Alcina is an enchantment and a privilege to experience. She's maybe the only true actress on that stage. There are convincing enough characterisations around her, yes, but they're rehearsed and unchanging. Rachelle's Alcina, on the other hand, seems a wholly spontaneous creation, different every time. So believable that she gives the impression she's the source of absolutely everything that happens around her — people move because she commands it, the set is changed because she's decided it should be, and even the music is her creation. By her reactions she turns other arias into her own — Oberto's "Barbara! Io ben lo so" isn't about Oberto's anguish at all any more, but about Alcina's desperate disintegration as she offers herself up as his victim. Back on opening night I suggested her Alcina was too essentially evil to be really sympathetic. I've changed my mind — the Alcina I saw tonight was shatteringly sympathetic. Even in her nastiest moments she's irresistible.

All of which would be hard enough for me to cope with on its own — but she can also sing. Again, with every performance she changes, there are new discoveries, new colours, new sounds. Her facility for coloratura can only be the result of a deal with the devil — except it's pretty gorgeously clear she's retained her soul. But she tears fearlessly into the most impossible runs and does so with such rock solid security that I'm fearless as I'm listening, too. I don't worry that she'll get blurry, or run out of breath, or miss a note — I'm free to abandon myself to the hair raising thrill of her. We're straying into beyond words territory here; I'm sitting and typing, all the while intensely aware that I'm capturing at best about 4% of the truth of the experience... and that all I really want to do is hear her sing again. There's just one performance left in the run. If I go I'll have to miss the first act. There's not a chance I'm missing the rest.

I think I meant to write more and/or different praise here but it's all too hard, nothing will say what I mean anyway. So I'll just invoke the sorceress again and hope for the best.

Rachelle, Rachelle, Rachelle.

I hope Opera Australia brings her back as much as they possibly can. At this point I feel would pay anything to hear her in anything. I see Lucia on her repertoire list and wonder if it's due a revival in Sydney. To those in New York — promise me you'll go and see her in Satyagraha. I'm praying for a broadcast.

P.S. I've received my stamp of Rachelle Devotee authenticity — having just written this post, I discovered this.