Prima la musica, poi le parole

Looking forward

I need something to write about in these barren six weeks while waiting for Opera Australia to come back to Sydney, so here it is. A series of posts in anticipation the 2008 season, show by show —thoughts, hopes, predictions and so on. So, without further ado —

La bohème

Right. When it comes to Bohème, I have absolutely no right to feel jaded. True, it's boringly popular but nevertheless, I've only ever seen it once. But maybe the jadedness of seasoned fanatics has infected me, or maybe I'm just not very nice — the prospect of La bohème does not, in and of itself, excite me hugely. I'm not a great fan of Opera Australia's production (my one and only Bohème was in Sydney in September 2005) but even the world's most exciting and wonderful production probably wouldn't stir my blood too much.

However. All that said, I am looking forward to this and will probably see it twice at least. Most of the principal cast changes halfway through and each cast has in it one singer I love. In the first cast, Aldo di Toro sings Rodolfo. It's still relatively rare (though a bit more frequent than it used to be) for me to go nuts for a tenor but I am mad about Aldo. He is the sort of singer who will take "Che gelida manina", which somehow never quite penetrates my evidently cold, cold heart, and make it do what it's meant to. And when he says "Come vivo? Vivo!" I might actually take him seriously and not think (as I tend to) stop avoiding the question, Rodolfo.

And from February 9th, Antoinette Halloran sings Mimi. And I have a growing suspicion that this will be a Special Event. This won't, I'm sure, be a mousy, sweet-as-pie Mimi. Antoinette's far more interesting and alluring than that. Besides which, I'm starting to think she really has one of the most interesting female voices in the company. I can't believe she doesn't feature more heavily next year. I will probably say this several times in the coming year.

So naturally I'm a bit upset that Aldo and Antoinette don't coincide, even for a night. At least in Traviata, which had a similar cast change, there was a one night overlap, where Best Violetta (Elvira Fatykhova) sang with Best Alfredo (Aldo di Toro) — the night I chose to go, and I was not disappointed. However, such is life. Aldo's Mimi is Hye Seoung Kwon, evidently one of the company's golden children as she turns up everywhere. She will, I'm sure be a lovely Mimi, though perhaps more on the above-mentioned sweet-as-pie side, without Antoinette's scintillating sex appeal. And Antoinette's Rodolfo is, as far as I'm concerned, an unknown quantity — Warren Mok. However, his website claims he's Asia's leading tenor and his resumé lists plenty of impressive companies, so I guess he can be trusted.

Amelia Farrugia and Taryn Fiebig share the leather pants role of Musetta. I tend to think of Amelia as slightly better suited but, then again, I've never heard Taryn for more than a few minutes at a time, so it's hard to know. Both have relatively pretty, sparkly tops and reasonable agility, which helps for Musetta. My concern with Amelia is her lower register; with Taryn, it's her Italian, which sounded frankly odd in her Trittico appearances. A couple of my favourite boys show up among Rodolfo's Merrie Band — José Carbo is half of Marcello and Jud Arthur is half of Colline, as he was the last time I saw it. There's another casting wish: I'd love to see Jud Arthur in a medium-to-large sized role for once. Bartolo was good, but I think he could go even bigger than that. I speak partly from patriotism (he's from my hometown) but mostly from the fact that every time I hear him, I want to hear more, and he's never in a role which allows it. Meanwhile, if he's going to keep singing Colline (which he does supremely well) I wish they'd let him wear a slightly less silly costume.

Two conductors as well. Giovanni Reggioli conducted the four performances of Falstaff I saw in February 2006, which were mostly pretty great. And I'm a fan of Tom Woods after my Streetcar marathon, not least because at the insights afternoon beforehand, he appeared to share a little of my ambivalence about the quality of the music. Which is a little more interesting in the man conducting its Australian première than in a rambling blogger.

Speaking of which, I think at this point I'll bring this particular ramble to a close. But to anyone reading (yes, both of you) — any thoughts to add about this Bohème? Anyone who heard Warren Mok's Calaf and can promise great things from his Rodolfo? Fans of the production? All comments welcome, as always.

La traviata II

My cunning plan was perhaps not quite so cunning. I returned to La traviata on Wednesday night, having waited patiently until Aldo di Toro was back as Alfredo. I was avoiding Rosario La Spina. But now I think I should have been a little braver, and given myself at least one more chance to behold the vocal loveliness of Elvira Fatykhova's Violetta. She's gone now; and I'm afraid her replacement leaves quite a lot to be desired. It's true Kate Ladner gives a spirited performance. Her characterisation is reasonably strong — the drawback being that that characterisation in no way resembles Violetta. It's one part tavern wench, three parts Manon Lescaut and lacking the heart of either. Vocally she's at her best in her mostly attractive, if undistinctive, middle; the top is squally and stretched, the coloratura blurry. Act I was basically fine until the closing scena which veered ever further off the rails, culminating in a seriously ill-considered swing at the high E-flat in "Sempre libera", followed, as the curtain was dropped and raised immediately to allow Violetta to implicitly acknowledge the audience, by an equally ill-considered swig of champagne from the bottle.  At that point I lost all sympathy for Kate's Violetta, and it never returned — she became a secondary character in an opera about Alfredo.

Who, by the way, I'm just madly in love with. Still. Aldo Di Toro and his spun-gold timbre are as magnetic and as magical as ever. It actually wouldn't matter who his Violetta was; his Alfredo is so alive, so touching and sincere, he would shine regardless. The elegance of his singing astounds me, every moment in exquisite taste but never mannered for a moment. Forceful in the climaxes but never ever forced; in quieter moments he is radiant — I keep coming back to images of light and gold, I can't think of anything else. His phrasing could have you convinced that he'd just had the thought in that moment — Verdi and Piave don't exist, the words and music are all just the spontaneous expression of the man on stage. Every emotion is infectious — his smitten affection for Violetta, his excruciating heartbreak at her departure and his total breakdown at her death. What makes this irresistible stage presence a particular delight is that it's matched to voice which is special in its own right. He'd be just as easy to fall far on record as on stage I think, and I hope he gets a chance soon to prove just that. He's my candidate for Australia's new Favourite Tenor. Later this year he sings Nemorino in Adelaide and if it weren't for the appalling timing (it conflicts more or less directly with Streetcar) I'd seriously consider being there. Take a moment to consider this, if you will — me, considering travelling for a tenor. What's happening?

The question now is whether to return or not. I probably will — Aldo is reason enough for that. There's also the conducting of Tom Woods, who has taken over from Giovanni Reggioli and who draws an altogether fierier and more cohesive performance from the orchestra. I still wish Violetta could be allowed to take "Addio del passato" at a slightly more self-indulgent pace, however — both sopranos have been denied the chance to really wallow, at a point were 'twere no bad thing to do so. Especially in Elvira's case, where I'd happily have lived a lifetime in those pianissimi. And you know, I want to go back for Kate as well. Lord knows I don't like being unkind to sopranos. I'll welcome a chance to change my tune, even a little, because sopranos are sopranos after all, and I'm me. That said, I'm still reserving all my sighs and swoons for lovely Aldo. Maybe I'll even get up the nerve to embarrass myself at the stage door; despite what you might think, I'm actually terribly reluctant about that sort of thing — but we'll see.  

La traviata

Hear that sound? It's me, sighing with relief. Lately I've been telling anyone who'd listen how wonderful I was certain Aldo di Toro would be as Alfredo in Opera Australia's La traviata. His first perfomance was last night — I was there, and am delighted and, as I say, very relieved to report that I stand by every word of my hype. He was glorious, more so than even I was prepared for. His voice is gorgeous, sort of golden and bright, rising to the climaxes with unforced passion, melting and sweet in lyrical passages. He sings with with equal attention to the musical line and to the text, so expressively and thoughtfully that he even succeeded in making the seriously overexposed "Libiamo" sound fresh and spontaneous. From the moment of his first entrance, every gesture, every action, every glance and every word spoke of sincere adoration and real devotion, of a good heart and sensitive nature. His Alfredo was an innocent and a romantic, with eyes only for his Violetta; unfailingly sympathetic even as he threw the money at her and tried to scorn her, when it was obvious all her felt for her was love. For me he was centre of this Traviata, not something I've ever felt about an Alfredo before. I can't say enough about him but this will have to suffice for now.

Violetta was Elvira Fatykhova, who sang the role for NZ Opera last year — now I see why the reviews there were so positive. She's really quite exquisite. Having heard her sing the Act I closing scene at the New Year's Gala, I assumed it would be there that her Violetta would shine brightest. But for all the crystalline coloratura, it was really in the second and third acts that she was at her loveliest. "Addio del passato" — which, admittedly, I adore pretty much regardless of the singer — was transcendent and fragile, more impressive in its quiet way than any of the Act I fireworks. In particular the pianissimo high A's... oh my. Two little moments of utter perfection. And yet — I can't believe I'm daring to say this — I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a slight something missing from her performance. She looks, sounds and acts the part wonderfully, but it remains just that: a part, a performance, a piece of fiction. My ultimate impression was of A Soprano Singing Violetta rather than simply a Violetta. However, it happens that this particular soprano sang Violetta gorgeously, so I'm hardly complaining.

In the opera's only other meaty role, Warwick Fyfe was paternal, wooden and a bit of a bore as Giorgio Germont. He sings with impressive power, certainly, and the audience obviously thought he was fantastic. Personally I was exasperated by his stiff stage presence and unvarying vocal expression. I can forgive less than stellar acting for a truly glorious voice, but as he doesn't really have one of those either, I'm afraid I was a bit disappointed. Among the smaller roles, I thought the terrifyingly tall Baron Duphol of Shane Lowrencev was probably most striking. Rosemarie Arthars was as convincing an Annina as it's possible to be in such a thankless role; Dominica Matthews was a spirited but slighly metallic Flora. Traviata gives the chorus plenty of opportunities to be brilliant as well, and brilliant they certainly were. Which brings me to one slight oddity of the night — when it came to curtain call time, only those singers who appeared in the final act took a bow. No sign of the chorus, of Flora, or the Baron or anyone except Violetta, Alfredo, Giorgio, Annina and the doctor. Am I missing something, or is this very strange?

Anyway this is a lovely Traviata, proof that a good old fashioned conventional production isn't necessarily boring or trite. There's not a wisp of anything controversial here, just gorgeous sets and costumes and a straightforward production which allows all the wonderful things about the opera to show themselves off unhindered. Not that I would mind seeing something controversial; but there's nothing wrong with traditional when it's done properly — and in this case it absolutely is.