Prima la musica, poi le parole

Once, twice, six times a goddess

I am not falling into my old habits, traipsing across countries or oceans at the drop of a hat in mad pursuit of Australian sopranos. I'd have been happy with my five Sydney Arabellas but since the opportunity of a sixth in Melbourne was offered, I was of course delighted by the prospect. There is no such thing as too much Cheryl Barker. Nor, for that matter, is there such a thing as too much Arabella — at least not this Arabella. John Cox's production is just as endearingly elegant in either setting. The principal cast is thankfully unchanged, which has meant double duty for a couple of the singers — Milijana Nikolic and Lorina Gore sang Adelaide and Fiakermilli respectively on Friday night, then Ulrica and Oscar the following afternoon, a feat for which I most definitely doff my non-existent hat.

The performance I saw was the last of the run. It seems my timing was just right — as I understand it, Peter Coleman-Wright was announced on opening night as singing through a chest infection and subsequently cancelled the next three performances. His cover was Warwick Fyfe, and I concede that, while Warwick's far from a favourite of mine, I can actually see him making quite an effective Mandryka — but the dizzying chemistry of Cheryl and Peter could not, I think, be recreated with half the partnership missing. And since that electricity is one of my favourite aspects of this Arabella, I'm very grateful indeed that Peter was back in health and on stage, as buoyant and teddybearish as ever.

Cheryl Barker was exquisite because she is always exquisite, because being exquisite is what being Cheryl Barker means. No change there, except in the details — no two of her Arabellas have been exactly the same, she is a living, breathing character whom Cheryl creates afresh with each performance. As ever — in Arabella and elsewhere — her voice grew warmer, more expansive, more secure and more enthralling as the evening progressed. She has nailed this role; I hope for the world's sake she's given opportunities to sing it elsewhere.

Failing that, let's just keep her singing it here forever. I'd happily let her lissome, spine-shivering singing keep right on sending me a little further round the bend with every phrase. By the time she says, with perfect coquetry "die drei sind lustiger" I'm already half gone, and at that point we've barely begun. I don't need to point out the aching beauty of the duet with Zdenka; if you don't feel it, then you've a heart of stone which no amount of pointing out could fix. Her "Mein Elemer" is a quicksilver tour de force. "Und du wirst mein Gebieter sein", well, I've already waxed lyrical about this —  Peter and Cheryl in duet radiate true love, vocally and physically, with a sincerity almost too potent to bear. She handles the Act Three confrontation with clarity, passion and towering dignity, a commanding presence and yet delicate, lovable and so, so, so beautiful. From opening night in Sydney to closing night in Melbourne, all this has been true of Cheryl throughout; but then, that's just what she does. She's Cheryl. (I'm mad about her. Is it obvious?)

Production, cast, consuming gorgeousness of Cheryl, all this was unchanged. One thing, however, was very, very different in Melbourne — the choice of tempi. I heard Lionel Friend conduct the opera once here in Sydney, when Richard Hickox was home with a virus. There, he was a proxy Hickox. In Melbourne, he is his own man and his conception of this opera is markedly different. This was fast. Sometimes pleasingly so; sometimes not. In parts, Friend's lightning dash did a nice job of draining off a bit of excess syrup (though I don't find this opera as saccharine as some do) and there were times his zippy recitatives did aid the pacing of the piece. All in all, though, he was too fast for me. A good portion of the glow of Arabella emanates from its ecstatic dwelling on gorgeous melodies, and I think it's okay to allow to just sit and radiate for a little while, no need to keep pressing on and on. Not that he denied us all luxury, not at all — but nevertheless I couldn't help but feel a certain impatience simmering beneath even the most drawn out passages.

The other issue with this fast forwarded Arabella — more obvious to me because I had the performances under Hickox for comparison — was its detrimental effect on the staging. Everything was happening faster, which meant that the carefully measured stage business which seemed so well matched to Hickox's performances, now appeared rougher and more rushed. There was a moment when Zdenka had to blurt a final line more or less over her shoulder, just to get off the stage in time. Arabella re-entered the room while the door was still swinging shut behind Matteo. I think Theodor was singing about his bills before even looking at them. And the depictive Act Three prelude turned from fervent to chaotic; evidently Hickox and Friend have very different visions of Zdenka's First Time. The change of pace, while awkward, isn't ever vastly problematic, and if, like a sane person, you've only seen the production in one city or t'other, I don't suppose it's a problem at all. Having seen it at both speeds, though, I can say I absolutely prefer the slower version, both musically and theatrically. Still, I'm pleased to have heard both, as there was much to love in Friend's reading and in the fluid, fabulous playing of Orchestra Victoria, ably assisted by a far kinder acoustic than that of the Opera Theatre.

And it seems I was not the only blogger making the Sydney-Melbourne Arabella road trip.   Marcellous was there too, and his post makes more detailed mention of the brisker tempi — apparently Friend's reading of the score took about fifteen minutes off Hickox's time, which seems a pretty significant difference. Marcellous attended the same performance I did, which does make me wonder if he might perchance be the distinctively dressed gentleman whom I often see at concerts and opera here and whom I also happened to spot filing into the State Theatre on Friday night. But no, I suppose that kind of coincidence only happens in opera, not in real life. 

Pilgrim's Progress

Obviously I can't let Opera Australia's concert performance of The Pilgrim's Progress pass without some kind of blog comment. After all, it did involve practically the entire Opera Australia roster. This is not a review as such — I'm writing one of those, when I figure out how on earth to do it, for NZ Opera News. But no sensible print review is going to be able to mention every single singer — there are too many of them (forty-one solo roles!) and too much else about the piece and its performance to talk about. So that's what I thought I'd do here. A sentence at least — often more, because that's what I'm like — for everyone involved. Here goes.

Conal Coad started things off nice and solidly as John Bunyan himself, with gratifyingly clear diction. There was no text provided in the programme, and the Concert Hall can't do surtitles, so we were at the mercy of the performers if we were to have a hope of understanding what was going on. Alan Opie as the Pilgrim began sounding suitably burdened; later his singing grew broader and more lyrical as he moved towards serenity and peace. To do him justice I'd have to mention him about twenty more times in what follows. So just take it as read that he responded brilliantly to all the piece's shifting moods and sang with persuasive passion throughout. And while I'm making sweeping statements — stellar contributions throughout (that's completely an understatement) from the Bach Choir and the Opera Australia Chorus. Shane Lowrencev, who is nine or ten feet tall at least, was a commanding Evangelist. The Four Neighbours were pretty great, with their quickfire cries of "Danger! Back!" — all reappeared later in other roles, with the exception of Graeme Macfarlane, a bit of a shame as a mark in my programme indicates I rather liked him. The Three Shining Ones were Lorina Gore, Taryn Fiebig and Pamela Helen Stephen, who appeared from on high — meaning through a door into the stalls behind the orchestra. A pretty coup de théâtre though it did make them a little difficult to hear or see. It also required them to walk in solemn procession all the way down the steps to the stage in high heels which I was especially impressed by. Audience members in lower heels fall down the stairs quite often. They blended beautifully and wore appropriately sparkly frocks. Henry Choo had the first swoonworthy solo of the evening; this kind of repertoire would seem to be his ideal home. Barry Ryan as Watchful, the Porter followed him with a solo almost as swoonworthy and sung almost without accompaniment. Michael Lewis was sort of frighteningly intense as A Herald, partnered by appropriately triumphant trumpet solo. And speaking of scary, Richard Anderson's unseen, gravelly Apollyon was menacing in the extreme. Two Heavenly Beings then swept in, the shape of Hye Seoung Kwon and Catherine Carby. For my tastes, Catherine was the more genuinely heavenly of the two — she's fast becoming a Mezzo I Like A Lot — but Hye Seoung was very sweet. Kanen Breen, previously the Neighbour Pliable, reappeared in Vanity Fair as Lord Lechery, amazingly resisting the opportunity to completely over-act. He sounded more comfortable vocally than he was a while, even in Vaughan Williams' vastest moments not as swallowed up and tiny as he was in Arabella. Andrew Moran, Charlie Kedmenec, Tom Hamilton and David Corcoran all enjoyed themselves as a group of shady characters. I think I might be beginning to see why the judges so enthusiastically named David Corcoran winner of the McDonald's Aria. Lorina Gore had a chance to slip back into character as Fiakermilli to sing Madame Wanton, though the shining charm of her Fiakermilli wasn't quite so much in evidence here. Alongside her was Pamela Helen Stephen as Madame Bubble. I like Pamela Helen Stephen and only wish there was more of her in the Sydney season — she's Carmen in Melbourne but as far as I can recall, this is her only Sydney appearance for OA this year. Please, Maestro, more nepotism! (Pamela [or does one call her Pamela Helen?] is married to our illustrious Music Director.) Abraham Singer — yes, A. Singer is a singer, and I don't imagine that joke has ever been made before — was brief but effective as Pontius Pilate. Another appearance by David Corcoran as the Usher; I hope those judges are right about his potential, lord knows this company needs another convincing Italianate tenor in its stable. And then Conal Coad as Lord Hate-Good. I liked him better as Bunyan, where he was obliged to be serious; his evil as Lord Hate-Good was a bit much and a bit too buffoonish. Antoinette Halloran made her long-awaited (by me, at any rate) appearance as Malice, and in her Antoinette way, immediately commanded the stage. The little she had to sing sounded fabulous. And there were a million people (well, almost) on stage and all kinds of things going on, but there is something about Antoinette which draws the attention. That said, Dominica Matthews was also pretty commanding, dominating the ensemble with the kind of contralto which Must Be Obeyed. There's a very distinctive Dominica Sound, and it's growing on me. Henry Choo is back, as Superstition. In my programme, I've written "again, swoon" and that doesn't really need elaboration. Richard Anderson is a bit less scary the second time around, as Envy. Matthew Clark has an interminable solo as the Woodcutter's Boy. My apologies, I cannot abide boy sopranos; no doubt he's a good one but I'm afraid I just wanted him gone. When he was, Kanen Breen was back yet again. This time in the most characterful of his roles, Mr By-Ends. This piece really is a good choice for him. The oiliness which irritated me no end in his Elemer is completely right here, and in any case, more refined. His wife, Madam By-Ends was lovely Catherine Carby, gleefully misbehaving. And after all havoc and raucous mischief of the Vanity Fair scene, we moved into its polar opposite — a totally gorgeous, serene and perfect encounter between the Pilgrim and Three Shepherds. Henry Choo was lilting as ever. Shane Lowrencev also good. But oh. Joshua Bloom. Here was the highlight of my evening, the moment of enraptured enchantment. What can I say? We know I'm his fan, despite his not being even slightly a soprano. He has one of the most beautiful voices I know of, male or female; and I am happy to find that he is as utterly engaging in solemn mode as he is in comedy. While I recovered, a few non allegorical solos. Solo Soprano was Hye Seoung Kwon, more compelling than she had been as a Heavenly Being; it was a nice change to hear her in something which required real thrust and power rather than smiling prettiness. Pamela Helen Stephen in her third frock of the night was a passionate Solo Alto. As the Solo Tenor, Kanen Breen back yet again — I've said all I need to already. Then more Lorina Gore, on the quiet side as the Voice of a Bird. And David Corcoran as a Celestial Messenger which means the Pilgrim's journey is over at last. Conal Coad as John Bunyan returned, a little woollier before but still making his point. Then a silent re-entrance from Alan Opie and the piece comes to its radiant conclusion.

More on Arabella (what else did you expect?)

The other women of Arabella

I did say in my first Arabella post that I would save comment on the singers-who-aren't-Cheryl for my review, but (as is my wont and my prerogative) I have changed my mind. Having spent two evenings and a matinée with them, a few among them deserve further attention; not to mention a bit of the uncritical adoration which this forum allows.

Lorina Gore is a blinding revelation to me. Though Fiakermilli is her Opera Australia début, I have heard her once before — as Norina in NZ Opera's touring Don Pasquale. As I recall, I was about the only person not to give her a total rave; I found her pretty and polished but not phenomenal. Fiakermilli is another story; whether the transformation owes itself to her own artistic and vocal progress, to the different repertoire, to the change in venue, or to all or none of the above — or whether it's just me, being my usual capricious self — I've no idea. But a transformation it certainly is, and she well nigh knocked my socks off on opening night. Here, operagods be praised, is the kind of full voiced, ringing, precise and genuinely virtuosic coloratura I've found disappointingly lacking from Opera Australia. Not an overpushed soubrette, not an agile but essentially lyric voice; she's the stuff of which Zerbinettas are made — indeed, having discovered she's out there, I'm keener than ever for an Ariadne. I wish she'd sung Olympia in last year's Hoffmann; and I hope Opera Australia plans to take sensible but full advantage of her talent, which is a rare one among their current stable.

I have already lamented the paucity of opportunities to hear Jacqueline Dark in this city. The fortune teller is another too small role but at least it affords a reasonable opportunity to hear her at full throttle, and I'm increasingly aware of what a pleasure this is. What impressed me in her Tisbe impresses me here too, which is that underpinning the rather gorgeous voice is a real idiomatic intelligence, an understanding of style and of phrasing. She struck me in Cenerentola as one of the few who knew how to make her recitative as lyrical and expressive as her arioso and her ensembles; how to integrate it into the musical whole, rather than chopping it up with the mannerisms of speech. In Arabella she carries those long, long Strauss lines exactly where they need to go without glossing over the details; we can enjoy the dialogue between her and Adelaide while simultaneously enjoying the opportunity Strauss offers to bask in two contrastingly lovely mezzo voices.

Which brings me to the other mezzo of Arabella, the ever more significant Milijana Nikolic. Every role I hear Milijana in leaves me more impressed by her — a real dramatic mezzo with the vocal heft, the range of colours and the versatile, vivid stage presence to do justice to the roles which should become her bread and butter. From a genuinely terrifying Zia Principessa, to a ghostly yet imposing Mother of Antonia, to a toweringly seductive Venus and now a hilarious and adorable Adelaide — she's fast becoming a very important part of the company, and I look forward to more and more and more of her. As I think we've already discussed in the comments elsewhere, Opera Australia looks to be doing Aida next year, and I can think of no better Amneris among the company.

And, just briefly, the one-and-only Arabella of Arabella

Fear not, you shan't have reprise of my last paean just yet. However I did my (delectable) duty post-matinée on Saturday, and queued in the foyer to have my programme signed by divine Cheryl Barker. Who arrived, let me add, in full Act Three costume — she only had twenty minutes to get from curtain call to signing session. We're talking lavish and lacy Viennese ballgown, hoop skirt and all, and flowers in her hair. She looked like a dream, was delightful to speak with, and I'm crazier about her than ever. She was also signing at the ABC Shop in the QVB today, so I hope some of the Cherylites reading this blog managed to take advantage of one (or both!) of these chances to enter the the radiant Presence Of.

Bella

I have the following problems with Cheryl Barker —

Strauss is eye-closing music, but I couldn't close my eyes to Cheryl's Arabella if I tried.

She keeps going blurry at just the moments I most wish to see her clearly. Curse you, tear glands!

She's messing with my senses. Peripheral vision — gone. It takes real effort to see what's around her. Sense of hot and cold — hard to tell, what with all the goosebumps, etc. Sense of hearing — is the famously consumptive audience actually coughing less? Or am I just oblivious? Oh, and rationality is shot too. On Saturday afternoon I will spend three hours looking mostly at a wall, perhaps the odd glimpse of stage; I appear to be happy and excited about this.

The operas she sings in end.

I came to her first Arabella already besotted. I expected the greatest of great things from her. I expected absolute gorgeousness. I expected a three dimensional and utterly believable Arabella for whom I could instantly fall head over heels. I expected that voice which is oh-so-Cheryl and oh-so-thrilling to be in full bloom and knock me over. It's difficult to imagine higher expectations than mine; so how, exactly, did she manage still to surpass them? Or perhaps I mean, to transcend them. She was all the above but more importantly, she was Cheryl and she was Arabella. If singing opera is just a job, she did her job to perfection; if it is an art then she is an artist of the first magnitude.

Little things mean a lot. She is supremely talented at pretending to look out a window. She colours the word "nein" during the lead-in to her duet with Mandryka in a way which manages, in one syllable, to express the entire character and emotional life of Arabella. When others are singing to her, she doesn't "react", she actually reacts, word by word, phrase by phrase. It is an actual conversation. She twirls gorgeously on the dance floor. Her voice blazes brighter the deeper in love she falls and when she reaches that final, crucial phrase — "Take me as I am" — it's a wonder the theatre doesn't just come crashing down. If we clapped hard enough, it might. We did try, I think. I did. (But they discourage long ovations at the Opera House. They bring the curtain down and the house lights up and give you no choice but to shut up and go home.)

And while I do not for a second doubt her acting abilities, it adds to the moving splendour of it all that she is actually in love with her Mandryka, and he with her. Husband and wife on stage together does not in and of itself guarantee electricity, but in this case, it's most definitely there. Never more so than in their Act Two duet. They pledge undying love to one another. Still in character, but with such palpable sincerity and affection that it seems almost intrusive to sit there and witness it. It's a moment of almost unbearable (and thus, completely and wonderfully bearable) beauty. Intense, but tranquil and assured; quite unforgettable.

The me of this moment would like to reach back in time and smack the me of October 2006 around the head, for hearing her Jenufa and not immediately feeling her exquisite power. I'm making up for it now, and then some. I cannot believe my luck — our luck — to have such a luminous and fascinating artist practically at our doorstep and fulfilling dream after dream. Just for now, forget I'm a foreigner and let me be Australian, so that I can say with pride: Cheryl is ours, and we adore her.

Arabella

Quite often at the opera, people in neighbouring seats feel moved — perhaps because I am toute seule and not grey-haired — to ask me if I am "enjoying it". I'm effusive if I am, and as polite as possible if I'm not. Nobody asked me that during Arabella on Friday night, and thank god — an innocent, friendly question might have landed them with a sobbing stranger to deal with. I actually held myself together quite well during Act One; it wasn't until the curtain came down that I found myself in a semi-paralytic haze, unable to understand how the people around me could just return happily to chattering about nothing and turn their attention to interval drinks. I coped, I got up and walked out into the foyer, but I was only half there. The rest of me was somewhere else; Vienna, I suppose.

And if anything, Act One was the warm up. It got better and better and better and... you get the idea. Of course, it had a lot going for it on paper: a top shelf cast, for the most part; an eminent opera director with a special affinity for Strauss; Richard Hickox; and of course, the fact that it is an opera by Richard Strauss — which is certainly a guarantee of my happiness, and of many other felicities besides. They're not what made it amazing, though; something else happened — the alchemy of opera. This was opera in the ideal sense, the perfect blend of drama and music which gives neither primacy but instead creates a single, transcendent whole which is infinitely more than the sum of its parts. I have read about these sorts of evenings; until Friday, I'd never had one of my own. Which is not to say I haven't experienced some truly amazing performances; but there has been nothing so totally out of this world as Arabella, nothing which, twenty-four hours later, had me still going about in a sort of haze.

I've yet to write my proper review. This will either be incredibly easy or incredibly difficult to do, and I shan't know which until I sit down and start. In the meantime, all that I can think of to do is share a few scattered thoughts — aspects of this Arabella which contributed to, or perhaps grew out of, its unfathomable beauty.

For one thing, I have decided to blame the unremitting dullness of the current Un ballo in maschera on the revival director, and perhaps on the cast; Ballo, like this Arabella, is a John Cox production and it's obvious to me now that anything boring or foolish about the direction couldn't possibly be his fault.

On a related note, heaven be praised — a ball scene without nine billion people on stage. Francesca Zambello's Carmen piled the crowds in at every possible opportunity; the ball in Arabella simply suggests a crowd rather than squeezing the lot of them in. Much, much better; we don't care about the crowd, after all, we care about what's happening on the outskirts between Arabella and Mandryka.

Obviously my reaction to this opera isn't anything like an impartial one; a lot of what has made it such a landmark for me is quite personal. For instance, though he has been one of my most adored composers for years, this was my first live Richard Strauss opera. I've long been in love with the sound world he creates — both in the lush and pretty pieces like Arabella and Der Rosenkavalier, and in the big loud things like Salome and Elektra — but this, in a way, was my first time really living in that world. Oh, there was Zarathustra last year, and the Four Last Songs, but they aren't the same thing. When I learned to love Rosenkavalier, a whole new realm opened up to me and I feel a little as if with Arabella I've finally stepped properly into it. And it was a reminder of how strong my affection for Strauss is; though a relatively new opera to me, in a way it was like coming home.

Having not seen much more of Arabella than a still here and there, I had the wrong idea about her. I imagined somebody quite solemn and sensible, upright and virtuous. She is a very good person, but that shows itself in ways I hadn't anticipated. Her wit, her playfulness, her endearing strength of character made me not just admire her, but adore her too; she was far less distant than I expected. If I might mix genres for just a moment — I expected Jane Bennett and was delighted to find I'd got Lizzie instead.

What I haven't mentioned yet, of course, is the singing. Funny that. Commenting on individual performances feels sort of beside the point. Not that I can claim to have been totally enraptured and oblivious; I am me, after all. There were a couple who were average, several who were superb, and one who was so staggeringly, monumentally beautiful that I'm still getting my head around her. I'll save all of them for my review, except the last — and she deserves, and shall receive, a post to herself. To follow.

Carmen revisited

Devotion being what it is, I steeled myself to suffer (or at least yawn) through a second Carmen just to see the Escamillo of Joshua Bloom. Of course I needn't have been such a martyr about it because, as usual, I was wrong. Not that I have suddenly developed a great affection for the opera, or that I wasn't bored or irritated in parts. Still not my kind of opera, still not a gripping production. But I liked it better than the first. The opera hasn't changed, but the singers have.

Most notable among the changes — Kirstin Chavez has now been replaced in the title role by Catherine Carby. There's little doubt that Kirstin is by far the more obvious and ideal choice; a dream of a Carmen, born for the role. Catherine Carby, on the other hand, is not at all an obvious Carmen. She does, however, have a voice which suits me down to the ground. Does she sound like an earthy, free-spirited gypsy girl? Hardly. Is she the kind of mezzo I like best? Absolutely. This is the first proper opportunity I've had to hear and see Catherine properly and at length and I'm delighted with her. She was a nice reminder that for all my grumbling, I don't actually hate this opera; it's mostly indifference, and so a voice which I'm drawn to can shake me out of that somewhat. Catherine's Carmen is a little on the stiff side, especially when it comes to the writhing, leg-spreading moments — none of Kirstin's easy, overwhelming sensuality — but she's good humoured, and does an excellent line in stubbornly out-thrust chin. That doesn't make her a Great Carmen, but it makes me like her; and it augurs well for her performances later in the season of another Spanish woman, one she's better suited for — Donna Elvira.

A new Micaela, too. I heartily applaud the switch and can only say, it ought to have been the other way around. Opening night audiences ought to have had the privilege of Tiffany Speight, who sings the role the way it ought to be sung — with full-bodied lyricism and a sweetness underpinned by steely determination. Nothing mousy, or fragile, or cloying. It's a year since I last heard Tiffany (as Susanna) and I'd forgotten how much I liked her. Micaela seems to me a female equivalent to Don Ottavio — easily made irritating and insipid, but in the right hands, exciting and lovely. Tiffany's is a Micaela after my own heart, and I thank her for it.

By the time Escamillo arrived, Joshua seemed almost like a wonderful bonus than the main event. He was glorious as ever. There's not much left for me to say about him, and what there is I think I'd better reserve for his Leporello in August. Escamillo is not exactly a perfect fit, but, as with Catherine's Carmen, that's fine with me. If impossible smoothness and glitzy egotism aren't traits he naturally projects, so much the better. Meanwhile his voice is a gift from the heavens and his presence on stage an unalloyed pleasure.

But enough of this. Forget Carmen. Come Monday, I know I will. Something big happens on Monday.
Two words.
Cheryl.
Arabella.

Not particularly rebellious bird

Opera Australia has got its hands on the Francesca Zambello Carmen, the one which premiered at Covent Garden a couple of years ago. The one with live animals in it. There's a donkey in the market in Act One, and Escamillo rides a big black horse. The horse gets the most enthusiastic applause at the curtain call — because he bows, beautifully, and probably more gracefully than Don José. Anyway, I reviewed this at some length for The Opera Critic and am a bit sapped on energy to write much more about it, but production-wise it pretty much boils down to this — all the livestock in the world does not, in and of itself, make for riveting theatre.

Kirsten Chavez is pretty fantastic, though, which helps. She strikes the right balance between sounding like a gypsy and sounding like an opera singer, as a proper Carmen should. There seemed to be a bit of a war over tempi going on with Hickox, but she came through it pretty well. (And I have completely forgiven her for not being Rinat Shaham; but we still want you here, Rinat!) Otherwise, though, there are really no other blazing standout performers. Except, oddly enough, Mercédès. Usually if I notice either of Carmen's friends, it's Frasquita. But Sian Pendry makes something almost meaty of a slightly negligible kind of role. More importantly, the role shows her off to brilliant advantage. She gives the impression that, were it required, she could step into the lead role and totally pull it off. I foresaw glittering things for her back when I heard her as the Kitchen Boy in Rusalka. She had more to sing her, and reinforced everything I already thought; so I hope there's a bit of stardom in her near future. I'm all for the fostering of excellent Australian mezzos, there aren't enough of them.

I guess budget isn't everything. I'm no great fan of this opera, but I saw the Otago University production three times and kept enjoying myself. Once is enough for this one. (Except that it isn't, because Joshua Bloom is taking over as Escamillo and I couldn't possibly miss that.) I think Annelise Miskimmon managed a far more meaningful (and disturbing) staging than Zambello. Especially the murder scene — in Dunedin it was shocking, prolonged and chilling; here it's pure cliche, an few unconvincing pushes and shoves then a swift thrust of the dagger and down she goes.

I'd like to mix and match the two and make a SuperCarmen. Keep the costumes and sets from the Zambello production, but put Miskimmon in charge of the people. Kirsten Chavez stays as Carmen, but we'll swap in Rebecca Ryan from the Otago production as Micaela, instead of OA's Sarah Crane (who is fine, and very sweet; but Rebecca was a whole different kind of lovely, in her quiet, pious way as commanding a presence as any Carmen). Definitely import Roger Wilson and Brendan Mercer as Le Dancairo and Le Remendado; I barely noticed that those two characters existed here, whereas Roger and Brendan made a whole fabulous double act of them. And I think I'd take Dwayne Jones as Don José; though I have to confess, wonder of wonders, that Rosario La Spina was really not too bad. Much improved — quite listenable, really. French music seems a reasonably good place for him, he was bearable in Hoffmann too. As Escamillo? José Carbo for Otago beats Michael Todd Simpson for OA, hands down. But when Joshua takes over the role? Different story. Joshua conquers all.

Una volta...(e due, e tre)

Dear Opera Australia,

La fille du régiment for Taryn Fiebig, please. The moment there's a suitable tenor on the roster to sing Tonio, as none of the current crop could. Failing that, maybe L'elisir d'amore. Not, repeat not, Don Pasquale as I can't stand Norina.

Yours wistfully,
Sarah

The above just one of many happy thoughts running through my mind during my second helping of La Cenerentola last night. I'm quite besotted with this show. It's just lovely. I was looking forward to it anyway, just because it's Cenerentola (and isn't Barbiere) but I don't think I expected to love it quite so much. But the moment I sat down and saw the curtain, a storybook border, somehow I just thought — this is going to be good. And it was.

There was Dominica Matthews being a gorgeous Angiolina. She doesn't quite radiate extreme divadom but I think there's a glimmer (or ten) of something there. Apart from anything else, she very definitely has a Dominica Sound. Every note is distinctively hers and I could pick it blindfolded. I love the evident care she's taken over her diction and over the meaning of the words she's singing. Sounds obvious but to judge by some others (who will remain nameless and aren't in this opera anyway) it possibly isn't. But, for instance, her perfect double consonant in "l'innocenza" is much appreciated. Definitely my favourite opera singing Matthews. (There are a few.)

But oh...

Joshua Bloom. The Mary Poppins of Opera Australia, practically perfect in every way. The funniest, charmingest, more irresistible presence on stage and, just to add to the fun, in possession of an outrageously beautiful voice. A voice which he has the wit, confidence and technical assurance to play around with at will. He's devastatingly funny to watch, but the comedy is as audible as it is visible. I don't think I've ever laughed as much during an opera as I did during his "Un segreto d'importanza" scene with Don Magnifico, where, taking his cue from the latter's aside along the lines of "is it me he wants to marry?", he proceeds to flirt shamelessly with him, beautifully outrageous. I loved the show anyway but Joshua is 99% of the reason I went for a second performance and will probably manage a third before it closes.

But wait, there's more.

Not only the baritone, but also — the conductor. I know, I'm a terrible person and usually don't have much to say about the conductor; at least now I can make slight amends. I was in the stalls last week, but last night I was back in my usual spot (Loge X, my favourite) from where I can look down into the pit. I did so, and discovered that Brad Cohen is at least as fascinating to watch in performance as any of the singers he was conducting. I like a conductor who creates the illusion the music is actually coming from him (or her). Brad did that. He probably did something similar the last time I heard him conduct, but that was Fedora and every ounce of my attention was elsewhere. Anyway, when the action on stage were less than riveting (I'll be blunt: Alidoro and Don Magnifico) I watched the pit instead, and it took some effort to drag my eyes back to the stage when the interesting people returned.

Two more things — Tisbe and Clorinda. Jacqueline Dark is Tisbe, the mezzo sister. Explain to me, ye powers, why Jacqueline's OA repertoire so far is a series of Thankless Mezzo Roles (Suzuki, Flora, Emilia and so on) with only a couple of lead roles to be found? While Victorian Opera, at least, has had the good sense to throw a Carmen and a Dorabella her way. She's excellent! She's the kind of mezzo Opera Australia needs and doesn't have nearly enough of. I'd love to hear her Dorabella. Maybe Dalila? She's not meant for pants roles but in gorgeous, girly mezzo repertoire, meatier roles than Tisbe, she must be a joy.

And, to come full circle, Clorinda is the suddenly magical Taryn Fiebig. I've heard Taryn in snatches of Janacek, Dvorak, Puccini and Handel and while it was all quite pretty, none of it was a patch on her performance here. Previously I had been fleetingly charmed, perhaps, but not electrified, and ultimately unmoved. Bring her into bel canto, though, and all of sudden she's the kind of singer I fall in love with. Exquisite. Not generally what you'd expect from a so-called ugly stepsister. But then she isn't an ugly stepsister. Badly behaved, silly and vain, yes. However, she looks lovely and her bad behaviour is charmingly incorrigible rather than malevolent. Barring Melanie Lynskey, she might be the most likeable stepsister a Cinderella has ever had. It was when she gave glittery, glorious voice to Clorinda's few solo lines near the beginning of Act II — making a couple of throwaway remarks more beautiful than they've any right to sound — that I thought: MARIE. Yes, please. Will it, can it happen? Who knows. But a girl can dream.

And now, as Cinderella Hour draws ever nearer, and as I've no wish to turn into a pumpkin, I shall finish.

Trionfa la bontà

La Cenerentola was one of four or five opera in the 2008 season which I knew about ahead of the announcement, thanks to a customer who'd been engaged for the chorus and came to buy a recording. It made me happy then, and I've become happier still. As Rossini comedies go, I enjoy Cenerentola more than Barbiere on every level. Angiolina is one of my favourite heroines in opera. And I'm also just a sucker for any kind of Cinderella story; you don't want to know how many times I've seen Ever After.

I had wondered, when I heard it was coming, who OA's Angiolina would be. I couldn't pick it, but when I saw they'd put Dominica Matthews in the role she did seem the natural choice. Dominica has grown on me a lot during this year, from an unremarkable Flora in La traviata to an impressive Eunice in A Streetcar Named Desire and a strong performance as the Monitress in Suor Angelica. But in fact the best thing I've heard her sing was Carmen's Habanera, at the Australian Opera Auditions Committee. That confirmed for me both her vocal abilities and star power — you need both for a role like Angiolina, a typical Rossini mezzo upon whom absolutely everything hinges.

But unusually for me, I'm just as excited — if not more so — about the Dandini. Joshua Bloom is singer for whom I can never find adequate adjectives. He was a magnificent Figaro. In the St Matthew Passion he was beyond belief, one of the most beautiful and exciting voices I've heard anywhere. Of course I'd rather hear him in a much bigger role than Dandini, but anything is better than nothing, especially as his star rises and his career takes him away from Australia. Luxurious casting for Dandini seems to be an Opera Australia trademark; the role was also Teddy Tahu Rhodes' big break.

I've no idea what the Opera Australia production of La Cenerentola is like, past the one photo provided on the website. That photo at least gives the impression of a pretty straightforward and conventional take on it, which is absolutely fine by me. The more it looks like a fairytale, the better. Brad Cohen conducts, and I thought for a moment I'd not heard him before, then realised I have — of all things, at Opera Holland Park's production of Giordano's Fedora, which was a wonderful experience in every way.

I have a few slight doubts. I can't make my mind up how I feel about Kanen Breen as Don Ramiro. He's the funniest man in the company, without a doubt. But his singing, while always musical and appealing enough, has seemed a bit underpowered of late. Then again, my recent opportunities to judge haven't been ideal — a Rinuccio sung from the side of the stage, funny-voiced character roles in Hoffmann and a lunchtime concert in the appalling acoustic underneath the QVB dome. If I'd heard him as Almaviva in the second half of the run of Barbiere I'd probably have a much better idea, but I didn't. So who knows. The rest of the cast is mostly promising. The ubiquitous Taryn Fiebig gets a chance to be nasty as an ugly stepsister and the trustworthy Richard Alexander is the terrible father. But really, it's all going to be about the heroine, and I think we've got a worthy one in Dominica. So all should be well, and goodness shall indeed triumph.

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.