Prima la musica, poi le parole

Tosca, sei tu

A nice appearance by Antoinette Halloran on this evening's Spicks and Specks. (People are already searching for her and landing here. Hello Googlers. You might like this link. And it's Antoinette, not Antonia. And no "O'" before the Halloran.) From this we learnt, among other things, that: she's lovely (we knew that already); she's recently engaged (congratulations!) to a fabulous tenor; and, most notably (to me) she's singing Tosca next year.

Since Tosca is already on my OA Futures list, with Cheryl Barker slated to star, I'm going to go ahead and assume that, as with Butterfly, Cheryl will open the season and Antoinette will take over later in the run, allowing the company to give this warhorse an appropriately lengthy season.

Antoinette's status as Australia's Puccini Soprano seems assured now, though I hope she won't completely abandon the non-Italian repertoire. Her Stella in Streetcar remains my favourite of her performances; a hint in the comments here that we'll see her in Floyd's Of Mice and Men is therefore welcome news. 

Butterfly Diaries, Part IV: Illustrated Edition

1. An offer

A bad thing has happened, but you, yes you, may benefit from my misfortune. Last week I returned to the box office to book for Madama Butterfly on the 7th of March. All seemed well. Then I got home, looked at the thing, and realised what I had in my hand was a ticket for Madama Butterfly on the 7th of February. Alas, alack. Did I misspeak? Did the box office make an error? Either way, I know from past experience that they won't consider exchanging it, and anyway, I've already re-booked for the right date. Which means I have a ticket going spare — the 7th of February is a performance by Antoinette Halloran and Rosario La Spina, and having already seen Antoinette (three times!) in Cheryl's place, I no longer need to go again during her scheduled season. 

The ticket is for C-reserve, seat C12 in the stalls. No surtitle view, but acoustically pretty excellent, and you'll be in exactly the right spot to appreciate the full force of Antoinette's "Un bel di". If you're in Sydney and you'd like it, send me an email and we'll figure something out. As a Saturday night C-reserve ticket, it cost me $106, but I think we can work out a pretty nice deal — I'd just like it to go to a good home. 

2. 09-01-09, 14-01-09 FOURTH & FIFTH PERFORMANCES

Two more Butterflies, two more Cheryl Barker cancellations, two more appearances by Antoinette. What a good thing it's so impossible to be mad at Cheryl Barker. I'm frustrated by the situation, but not by her — painful as her absences are, in the end, I'm pleased she's doing whatever she deems necessary to look after that precious voice. And if there's an element of supercautiousness, on account of her upcoming Parisian début, well, that's fine too. I forgive and forgive, and keep crossing my fingers that she might just make it to the matinée on Saturday, her last scheduled performance this month. And meanwhile, let's just hope she returns in March ready to blaze through her final performances. 

Of Antoinette's three performances so far, I'd say her first was her best. On the 9th her voice was still sounding a bit ragged from the demands she'd placed on it in the previous performance. Wednesday's was somewhere in the middle. Vocally, she's best at the extremes, the high, soaring passages and big, low chest voice. In the middle, a little less secure, but we make allowances, because what a role for anyone to sing. She remains a fine actress, a charming Butterfly, especially in the first act, where she is all youthful excitability. Her own personal take on the role is coming through more clearly with each performance, although so too is a slight tendency to perhaps (for my tastes, anyway) overdo the giggly exuberance just a little. There's a serious and formal side to Cio-Cio San too, after all, but that's something Antoinette has plenty of time and world to grow into. 

Julian Gavin remains our almost lovely Pinkerton, and with Cheryl not around, I actually take the time to watch him a bit more than usual. He's pretty good at finding three dimensions in a character who could just about get away with one, and that bright, secure voice makes him easier still to indulge. I'm more taken with Graeme Macfarlane's Goro all the time, too. Whereas I'm starting to wish Barry Ryan's Sharpless had just a bit more presence and a more benevolent air — maybe it's just me, but I like to feel that he's really on Butterfly's side, as far as possible, rather than that he's just taking care of business as painlessly as he can manage. Wednesday's performance was an especially moving one for Suzuki, Catherine seemed quite genuinely distraught by the end. 

That said, it was also the only one I've remained dry-eyed throughout, but that's more to do with my frustration at diva cancellation than the performance per se — and it received a pretty substantial standing ovation, much to my surprise, so what do I know? 

So now there's only Saturday's matinée left, and then I'm Butterfly-free until March. I'm doing my level best to expect Antoinette to sing. If Cheryl happens to appear, well, what a bonus that would be. All this uncertainty wreaks havoc on my poor nerves, though. It's terribly traumatic, not knowing until the very last moment. 

3. Santé

 

For our prima donna, on the eve of her Parisian début. Get well soon, for les grenouilles if not for us. But that matinée would be nice. 

Butterfly Diaries, Part III

06-01-09 THIRD PERFORMANCE

It was all well and good preparing myself for Cheryl to cancel on night two, but having been wrong once, it didn't occur to me that it might be good psychological insurance to repeat the process until I was about fifteen metres from the theatre. Thus, not surprisingly, since it's the way these things always work, this was the night I was right. I scanned my cast list as a matter of course, and my initial, idiotic reaction was "why haven't they listed Cio-Cio San?". Then my brain caught up with me and pointed out that yes, they had listed her, she just wasn't being sung by Cheryl.

Sigh. I was a little disappointed, but, believe it or not, not heartbroken. For various reasons. One, because it was still in the back of my mind that she might cancel, so I was readyish; two, because there are still plenty of chances to hear her in the role; and three, because I'd actually ever so slightly hoped that this would happen. Yes, really. You see, Antoinette Halloran is scheduled to take over at the end of this month and for all of February. I like Antoinette Halloran a lot. And so, despite being booked to see Cheryl's Butterfly more times than any sensible person should see anyone's Butterfly in close succession, I still wasn't going to miss the chance to hear Antoinette take it on. So I was prepared to pay for yet another ticket and see yet another performance in order to do so; but it had occured to me that it would save money and help prevent Butterfly fatigue if Antoinette just happened to sing one of Cheryl's performances. And that's exactly what happened.

So I shrugged off my disappointment at the absence of Cheryl and turned my thoughts to the imminent joy of Antoinette. I've had a curious relationship with Antoinette's voice of late, but there is something about her I can't resist, even if I have occasional doubts about her. I had reasonably high hopes for her Butterfly: it's a role she's sung before, she'd already taken over at least two performances in the Melbourne season last month, and it's only a couple of weeks until her scheduled debut here. 

Usually, if I'm faced with a last minute substitution for somebody I really wanted to hear, it takes me an act or so to reconcile myself to the change. This time, though, my genuine happiness at the opportunity to hear Antoinette ahead of schedule already put her at a distinct advantage. And her performance, I'm very happy to say, continued the good work. She was absolutely beautiful. I wondered if I could love another Cio-Cio San so soon after Cheryl. With her first notes and first glance, Antoinette showed me I could. 

Perhaps she doesn't have the role under her skin quite yet, but nobody would expect her to. Nevertheless she gave an engaging, moving portrayal, as vivid in her own way as Cheryl's or anybody's. In her facial expressions, and in the first act especially, Antoinette did seem, consciously or unconsciously, to be channelling her immediate predecessor, but not in a way that came across as deliberate imitation. The character became more her own as the evening progressed, and grew into quite a different creature, a younger, more openly ardent Cio-Cio San. Vocally, the first act was her best, with the long and gruelling second act a bit less secure, although not without its thrills and moments of loveliness. No doubt one day, when she too has sung Butterfly a million times (and I daresay she shall) she'll master the art of pacing herself, but the sheer exuberance of her performance did a lot to compensate for occasionally uneven singing. 

Nerd that I am, I couldn't help playing spot the difference, noting which bits of stage business were changed and which were common to both. I saw that Antoinette knelt to scatter her flowers, rather than gliding about the stage. Also that, where Cheryl actually picks the child up and swings him about while singing, Antoinette left him on the ground and held his hand — and fair enough too, I couldn't believe it when Cheryl kept singing under the weight of a six year old in motion. Other tiny details too, but so trivial as to make the preceding points seem vastly significant. 

Julian Gavin gave what sounded to me his best performance yet. Or maybe it was just that I was in my most acoustically advantageous seat so far, right at the front of the loge. Either way, this was the night which really made me sit up and listen to his voice and think how fortunate we are to have such an attractive and secure voice in this role. My affection for Catherine Carby continues to grow. Roll on, I Capuleti — I sense a Sternstunde coming on. 

One final point, while I'm thinking of it — I very much like the way Shao-Chia Lü has been beginning each performance. Much like Simon Hewett in Otello (and he was following Simone Young's lead in doing so), there is no initial applause for the conductor's entrance. He sneaks into the pit ahead of time, and only steps up to the podium as the lights are going down, just in time to start the performance with a bang. It worked a treat in Otello, with its opening storm; Butterfly hasn't just a turbulent beginning, but the effect is equally striking. A few tourists at the second performance wrecked it by applauding once the orchestra had started, but they were silenced reasonably quickly, and otherwise it's worked well. 

And thus, with the above, I bring myself at long last up to date. Tomorrow night is my fourth. I'm afraid I can neither promise nor threaten to keep on posting about every singly performance. I mightn't have the stamina, and you certainly could be forgiven for giving up on me until I find another topic. We shall see. In the meantime, there's a Cav/Pag opening on Saturday, so the advent of a non Butterfly post is closer than you think. 

La bohème on ABC2

Slightly deceptive describing this as live, since it was on a half hour delay, but it doesn't really make a difference. I didn't watch all of it — Spicks & Specks took rightful precedence from 8.30 to 9. Were Jennifer Byrne and Chris Taylor really the best the ABC could come up with to host? I like them both quite a lot in their usual hosting gigs (Tuesday Book Club and The Chaser) but they both seemed a bit ill at ease and not very well informed. Where's Virginia Trioli when you need her?

As we know, I wasn't much taken with opening night of this mini-season. Which is actually why I watched this: I wanted to give it a chance, and more particularly, to give Antoinette Halloran a chance, to be better. And they were. It was still patchy, but not nearly so ragged as opening night. Most importantly, Antoinette made me smile again. Her voice will never be beloved of everybody, I realise that now. The naysayers (there have been several, and occasionally they've been vicious) have probably ensured that I'll never again hear her with wholly uncritical ears, which is good for my credibility, I suppose, but bad for my soul. But whatever the criticisms, and however valid they may be, I like her. I just do. Tonight she sounded much closer to the Antoinette whose Stella (and first Mimi) I adored. Especially in the final scene, where she seriously pulled it together and tore my Bohème-hardened little heart apart. I have to give her kudos for her cough as well, which sounds frighteningly genuine. I only cough like that when I'm actually sick. She does it in between singing: how, I've no idea.

The rest was improved too. Altogether a tighter, better show. Not riveting, but that was never really on the cards. Carlo Barricelli still seems a bit unruly: fabulous when he's good, not when he's not. I suspect he might be happier in a different environment: bigger, more full-blooded orchestra, slightly more extravagant (and Mediterranean) production and so on. They've been describing him as "Australian-Italian" so I assumed he was like Australia's other Italian tenors, Rosario La Spina and Aldo di Toro — Australian, with an Italian background and name. But no. He's was born here, but he's very very Italian, with limited (adorable) English. In the intermission interview he had José Carbo ready to interpret. Speaking of that interview...it can't be a good sign when I tune in to find José detailing the challenges of staying in sync with the conductor. And indeed, that does remain a challenge. Cunéo's own interview has given me far greater respect for him. It's still a pretty dreary reading, but I get the sense that he, as much as the singers and orchestra, is a victim of seriously short preparation time. Besides, he's only starting. There's plenty of time; and since he spoke so eloquently on the opera and its place in the canon, I'm willing to indulge him.

I hope plenty of people watched. TV broadcasts of opera are an excellent idea and ought to be encouraged, even if it is La bohème. No. I shouldn't be like that about it. I understand that, for the time being at least, if they're going to put Opera Australia on TV, it has to be operas like Carmen and La bohème; that it's all about (a phrase I hate) "bringing music to the masses" and those are the works that fit the bill. But oh, if the world were fair, if it was all about presenting interesting, provocative and just plain amazing arts content to the screen, regardless of its crowd-drawing potential...well, just think of what they could show? La bohème is alright, but this season has contained far better advertisements for the talent and thrills on offer at OA. A broadcast of Billy Budd — now that's something I'd really be excited about.

This just in

You'll forgive me my Opera Chic moment. I've just had this brief, mobile report from opening night of Victorian Opera's L'elisir d'amore.

"Antoinette is teh hawtness"

And really, what else do you need to know?

Antoinette Halloran Appreciation Society

Le dirò con due parole:

Antoinette Matters.

Perhaps a few more words. I didn't mean to be a sappy cliché, I just wanted to see Antoinette's Mimi as soon as possible, so I booked for the next performance, which happened to be Valentine's Day. Even worse, I cried. But that wasn't the opera. It was Antoinette. She sang her first note through the door and — this is not artistic license — my jaw actually dropped. And I was a tearstained mess. I had crazily high expectations for her but evidently they weren't high enough. I don't know what else to say. She was incredible. How anyone could tear their eyes or ears from her I don't know, I certainly couldn't. Her "Si, mi chiamano Mimi" had me totally entranced. Early on, I thought — I want to get in as quick as I can with the rapturous applause once she's done. But by the time she finished I was hanging on her every note, oblivious to the world around, and it took somebody else's in-quick applause to bring me back to reality. That aria does not do that to me. I've seen three casts in this production and she's one of the few singers who have remembered that it's a contemporary setting and thus moved and behaved accordingly. No out of place nineteenth century gestures. And the woman can sing. She was sublime. This voice was as much a physical experience as an aural one, it enveloped me, saturated me. I'll remember this. Halfway through her aria, I had the terrifying thought that I might actually have to see it a third time. Were it cheaper, I probably would. I might anyway.

Except for a couple of drawbacks. One, it's Bohème, and I still don't like it. Two, Creepiest Rodolfo Ever. The most beautiful thing about his "Che gelida manina" was the back of Antoinette's head as he sang it to her. Otherwise it just looked like some kind of maniacal raving (Your tiny hand is frozen...in a jar in my underground laboratory). He seemed to have no concept of Rodolfo as a person; or if he did, a physical inability to express that personality. He was stiff, leering and totally charmless; his singing likewise, really. I found myself suddenly reconceiving the relationship — Mimi as the victim of a controlling, manipulative, nasty Rodolfo, who steals her key and has her trapped by the time she sings "Obbedisco, signor". It was more Bluebeard than Bohème. I wanted to stage an intervention to get her away from that man. It is to Antoinette's infinite credit that she responded so convincingly, with such gorgeousness and sincerity. She transcended him, and was believable enough for the both of them.

To my knowledge she's singing nothing else in Sydney this year. The sound you hear is my heart breaking.

Fortune smiles

Lest by my last post, you think me sharper than a serpent's tooth — this evening I am overflowing with gratitude. My fairy godmother has been hard at work, and two wishes have been granted.

The Antoinette Halloran/Rosario La Spina Puccini CD made it to iTunes today. The CD in its entirety is significantly cheaper online than in the flesh, but even so, all I wanted was Antoinette and so that's all I downloaded. Just as I expected, she's beautiful. And not just generically beautiful; Antoinette gives a series of intelligent, vivid and individualised performances. Her Mimi and her Tosca are easy to tell apart. (The Rodolfo and Cavaradossi she's paired with sound pretty identical.) Magda and Cio-Cio San are both singing of dreams, essentially, but they're very different kinds of dream and Antoinette makes the distinction clear. Every now and then, there's a turn of phrase which is quite startling in its beauty. At the end of "Si, mi chiamano Mimi", she manages the final, self-deprecating words — "Altro di me non le saprei narrare. Sono la sua vicina che la vien fuori d'ora a importunare" — without a trace of the irritating little-girlishness I've heard in others.  The climax of her "Un bel di" is quite alarmingly moving, determined optimism suddenly giving way to a savage, heartrending release of long pent-up fear and desperation. This kind of idiomatic and totally committed performance leaves recent bland releases by one or two other "stars of Opera Australia" I might mention quite in the shade. Right now her name tends to come preceded by the words "rising soprano". May she rise and rise, just as high as she wishes; should she desire it, I think she'd conquer hearts around the globe.

To the second wish. This one took a little longer in the granting.

Almost two years ago, I wrote a rambling post about the Dido operas of Cavalli and Purcell. It concluded with these words:

"I've been a fool for Purcell ever since The Fairy Queen introduced us. And, to keep this paragraph going in circles, I encountered The Fairy Queen on account of Yvonne. All of which makes me think that what I really would like is Yvonne Kenny as Purcell's Dido. Except that then, of course, you'd probably never shut me up."

Well, it looks as if you're never going to shut me up. In the course of various internet wanderings, I found this sentence at the end of Yvonne's Askonas Holt bio:

"Future engagements include Purcell’s “Dido and Aeneas” for Opera Australia."

Usually if I express these wishes in writing, I figure it's a guarantee they won't be granted. This time, however, a cherished dream has come true. How cherished? Consider:

Dido's Lament was one of the very first operatic arias I came to know; when I started playing the piano again for fun, I had begun with showtunes, but when I ran out of them, I returned to "easy classics" books I'd used when I was taking lessons. Dido's Lament was one of my favourite pieces to play; all the more so when I realised it appeared on Barbara Bonney's Fairest Isle, another musical love which predates my proper conversion to opera fanaticism.

Purcell is among my favourite composers.

The reason I really started loving Purcell was the DVD of the ENO's Fairy Queen, starring Yvonne, which I loved so much I structured a semester long research paper around it.

One of the many reasons I really started loving Yvonne was, therefore, Purcell.

I'd rank Dido and Aeneas among my top five favourite operas.

I adore the character of Dido in any incarnation, musical or otherwise.

I already know Yvonne makes an astounding Dido. She is Cavalli's Didone. (I'm no longer anything like as indifferent to Cavalli's opera as I was when I wrote the above-linked post.) And I'm prepared to state, as somebody who is only about five recordings short of owning her complete recorded output, that her Didone is quite possibly the best recording she has ever made — electrifying, musically glorious and completely devastating. She inhabits that character with majesty, grace and breathtaking emotional intensity. If she brings that same glorious power to Purcell's Dido, then forget funeral pyres — she'll set the stage alight.

That makes two wishes. According to tradition, that leaves me with a third. I'll make it this — that the above news is linked to these paragraphs, from a recent article about Philip Picket, currently at the Perth International Arts Festival with the New London Consort:

"Pickett's research into music of the pre-classical period has led to some fascinating collaborations. With Peter Holman, a Purcell specialist, he has created a full-evening version of Dido and Aeneas.

The best-known version of the opera is that performed at Josias Priest's school for young gentlewomen in 1689 or 1690: a little masterpiece lasting about an hour. Pickett and Holman have reconstructed performances given in 1700 at Lincoln's Inn Theatre in London, which had extra music by the theatre's music director John Eccles. It included, for example, a prologue for Mars and Peace, a whole scene for the witches, trumpets, and all the spectacle of 18th-century opera.

"It's a full-length evening with a big orchestra, and it's very theatrical indeed," Pickett says. "Rather than being a gentle court masque, it's much more like our idea of an opera, with a lot of colour and drama. It's incredibly vivid.

"You can't appreciate some of these early works unless you hear them in different ways. They were performed in different ways almost every time they were performed. There was no such thing as one set way."

The opera has been performed in concert and will be fully staged by director Jonathan Miller for the Chelsea Festival in London in June. Pickett says there is talk of a possible tour of Dido to Australia in 2009."

I live in hope. And in the meantime, am very, very, very happy.

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.

Stellar

The puns are irresistible — as Stella-for-star in Opera Australia's Streetcar, Antoinette Halloran is just that. A star. Or rather, a star. Just Google antoinette halloran streetcar and on the very first page, you'll see all the raves. "The standout performance was Antoinette Halloran's." "The star of the show is undoubtedly Antoinette Halloran." "Antoinette Halloran is outstanding." You'll also see my words: "Antoinette Halloran is a revelation."

All of it true. Alongside three singers with well-established and glittering international careers, Antoinette — whose name still seems always to come prefaced with the words "rising soprano" — not only holds her own but creates perhaps the biggest sensation of the four of them. No mean feat when you've Teddy in his shirtlessness to compete with. She is helped somewhat, it's true, by Previn's writing for Stella, which is among the most immediately appealing music in the opera. Elizabeth Futral, for whom the role was written, also steals the show on Deutsche Grammophon's recording of the premiere.

Nevertheless, that only goes so far. What makes Antoinette's performance special is Antoinette herself. Her Stella is a tour de force, vividly characterised and stunningly well sung. She breezes through Previn's challenging music as if to the manner born, combining a crystal clear upper register with a wealth of darker, more sensuous colours. Sweet yet strong, just like Stella. In "I can hardly stand it" she moves between radiant, youthful adoration and a more explicit and adult longing; the raw power with which she imbues the word "wild" is startling. The brief Act Three duet with Stanley is another memorably gorgeous moment, her phrasing fluent and persuasive — the moving way she sings "she's my sister" sticks in my mind still. Her acting is likewise persuasive. There's a look she throws Blanche just before "I can hardly stand it", when Blanche deems it a relief that Stanley is "on the road a lot", which on its own says as much as the aria which follows. The cinematic Stella of Kim Hunter was a slightly childish, simple figure, not hugely endearing; but Antoinette brings such humanity and compassion to the role as to make Stella touchingly sympathetic.

I said she was a revelation, and so she is — certainly to me. Her voice was not what I expected; it was better, stronger and more interesting than I had imagined. Though I'd seen her once before (in Sweeney Todd) I really wasn't sure what to anticipate from her Stella. So it has been a delight to discover such an excellent performance. And such a complete performance, as exciting theatrically as vocally. This star doesn't merely twinkle; she scintillates. Brava, Antoinette.