Displaying items by tag: Il Trovatore

Guiseppe Verdi’s beloved, romantic heartbreaker, La Traviata was beautifully sung Saturday evening at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. The second offering this season by the great Italian composer, it is the last opera from the famed blockbuster trio of Verdi’s middle period which include Rigoletto, Il Trovatore. Unfortunately, it did not live up to the standard of Il Trovatore presented earlier this season.

The production, which debuted here in the 2013/14 Season is (with the exception of Act Two, Scene 1) just plain ugly. Why such a dismal production would be re-mounted is a mystery. If management wonders why ticket sales are down, maybe they should take a look at their stage sets. Designed by Riccardo Hernandez, the heroine of the opera, Violetta Valery, lives in a giant concrete cylinder with no windows, stark lighting, and nary a picture nor sconce on the wall. Is this to suggest the bleakness of her inner life? If so, the design team completely misses the point. Verdi’s music represents Violetta’s inner bleakness superbly, stringently contrasting it with the artificial opulence of her material world. A bleak set completely avoids that tragic juxtaposition. We understand that budgets are tight, but certainly an international opera house of the stature of the Lyric can afford more than a few pieces of stage furniture. The huge stark edifice and ghostly shadows that worked so well in the darker Il Trovatore a few months ago, seemed totally incongruous in Violetta Valery’s Paris, the City of Light.

Violetta, and the real life woman the character is based on, Marie Duplessis, would have lived in a lavish apartment with every fashionable and expensive furnishing and accessory. The high end courtesans of the 19th century were the era’s style setters, envied and emulated, even while the morality of their profession was held in scorn by ‘Polite Society’. As our society has changed over the last 175 years, there is no exact parallel today to the divas of the demi-monde, but the program notes that suggest Princess Diana are partly right. Where she went, what she wore and who she was with utterly captivated the attention of the public. But imagine, if you can, a combination of the elegant Princess with the looser lifestyle of a Kardashian, perhaps, and you might get a little closer to the famous and fascinating women that reigned in the demi-monde, the “half-world”, of the Courtesans of the past.

“La traviata”, meaning the one who has strayed, does find redemption – not unlike Cheryl Strayed, of the book and movie, Wild, although it is love and not wilderness that brings about the moral transfiguration. In the libretto by Francesco Maria Piave, based on the play from the novel “La Dame aux Camélias” by Alexander Dumas the Younger (son of the famous author of “The Three Musketeers”), we meet the Courtesan at the height of her fame, but near the end of her short life; at 23 she is already quite ill with consumption.

The curtain rises during the soft ethereal prelude to reveal a lacy scrim behind which we see Violetta attended by her maid Amina, preparing for the party which opens the action. It was refreshing to be spared the once meaningful but now over-done prelude as the epilogue with the entire action of the opera as a flashback. This should have provided an opportunity for us to see the frail and exhausted Violetta put on her party face, rally her strength and take the room as the dazzling courtesan plying the talents that led to her meteoric rise to the top of her profession. Unfortunately, this insightful moment did not play out as intended. It felt more like a peeping-tom watching somebody’s maiden aunt getting ready to go to church.

Albina Shagimuratova returned to the Lyric this year as the title character, following recent appearances here as Elvira in “I Puritani” by Bellini last year and Lucia in “Lucia di Lammermoor” by Donizetti the year before. Ms. Shagimuratova was in fine voice, and sang the challenging role magnificently from start to finish, deftly handling the brilliant coloratura, spinning out delicate, silken “fil de voce” or threads of voice, and with clarity and fullness sufficient for the passages requiring a bigger, more dramatic sound. Yet she could not even pretend to have the grace, vivacity, charisma, or sexual magnetism that Violetta must display. In the first scene her acting was the sort of acting that gives opera singers a bad name, plodding around aimlessly, looking matronly, with a few phony gestures here and there. Somehow, during the expansive “Sempre Libera”, in a moment when she must soar as she discards the notion of true love for her life of freedom, luxury and pleasure, Ms. Shagimuratova was, from where we were seated, hidden behind a table bearing a conical mound of fruit. In Act Two however, with its inherent expression of true, romantic, and intimate love, she seemed more comfortable and able to access the emotions of the character; her desperate, passionate singing carried the meaning far more effectively, especially in the crucial duet with the father of her new, true love, Alfredo. Moments of genuine poignancy returned in the intimate final act as she sadly faces death alone, only to be elated by the return of her loved ones arriving just in time to watch her die. If Ms. Shagimuratova is not willing to embrace playing a whore, perhaps she should limit her repertoire to “good girl” roles.

Giorgio Berrugi, in his first performance here, made a fine Alfredo. He brought a clear lyric, tenor voice and Italianate singing to the roll with youthful ardor. His infatuation with Violetta, anger at her perceived betrayal, remorse for his behavior, love and understanding as they were reunited were all believable, despite any semblance of a spark of sexual energy from the soprano.

“Best in Show” turned out to be Željko Luĉić as Giorgio Germont, Alfredo’s father, who arrives to the Act Two “love nest” in the country that Violetta and Alfredo are sharing. He is sternly determined to break up the affair that is causing scandal back home in Provence, and threatening the chances of a good marriage for Alfredo’s “pure-as-an-angel” sister. The outstanding Verdi baritone, familiar to audiences here and at all major opera houses throughout the world, was exceptional. He used his riveting presence not in an intimidating way, but as a strong and loving head of the family doing what he believes to be best for all. But Papa Germont is not unyielding, he recognizes something special about Violetta, and presses his case with compassion and respect, with both vocal tenderness and power. When Alfredo discovers he has been abandoned, his father tries, unsuccessfully, to console him by invoking memories of home and family in the beautiful aria “Di Provenza, il mar, il suol” - “The sun and sea of Provence”, sung superbly by Mr. Luĉić. This is what makes opera singing so difficult and so amazing when it all comes together; the singer requires an extraordinary instrument, excellent technique, abundant acting talent, well-honed stage craft, and the inexplicable ability to use all these things together to communicate on a deep level. Good singers have most of these things. The great singers, like Mr. Luĉić, have it all. The ovation received by Ms. Shagimuratova revealed that the audience is willing to accept two or three out of five, but Mr. Luĉić’s performance was, by far, the most satisfying.

The stage direction by Arin Arbus seemed amateurish for one with such fine credentials from the spoken theater. It was yet another example of how stage directors from the spoken theater do not possess the knowledge or training to be adequate opera directors. The chorus scenes were a disorganized melee, the least problematic of which was the masquerade at the party in Act Two, Scene 2, hosted by Violetta’s friend Flora. Dealing with an opera chorus requires a skilled opera director who understands the music, singing, and who is experienced coordinating large crowds in small spaces, and within the constraints of an exactly limited amount of time as dictated by the music; there is rarely anything quite like it in the spoken theater. Even in intimate scenes Ms. Arbus demonstrated little understanding of basic opera stage craft, allowing singers to upstage or block one another in ways which did not permit them to “cheat” out to be heard in a large hall such as the Ardis Krainik Theater. Ms. Arbus showed talent with one or two nice touches, but overall, the principals could have staged it as well themselves from their previous experience. The prelude to Act Three was staged behind the scrim as well, but what is the point of changing the sheets as Violetta lies dying in her sick-bed? Again, anything which that bit of business could have conveyed is far more thoroughly expressed in Verdi’s music. This seems to be the hallmark of theater directors in the opera house: Stage business for the sake of stage business. We’ve seen worse, but when will this trend end? At least Ms. Arbus didn’t mess with the good supertitles by Francis Rizzo.

The always excellent Lyric Opera Orchestra played beautifully, conducted with skill and extraordinary sensitivity to the singers by Michael Christie in his Lyric debut. Many conductors take tempi that fit their preconceived notion of how a piece should “go”, expecting singers to adjust to those tempi. Mr. Christie is a singer’s conductor who actually listens to his singers, adjusting his tempi to best suit the unique idiosyncrasies of a particular voice, allowing their best qualities to blossom. He is an encouraging addition to the Lyric Opera’s roster.

The comprimario roles were all ably performed, mostly by members of the Ryan Opera Center and by Zoie Reams, a former member of the Houston Grand Opera Studio. Ms. Reams is attractive and has a yummy mezzo voice. She made the most of her two scenes as Violetta’s friend, Flora. We hope to see and hear more of her in future seasons. As Amina, the formidable Lauren Decker brought a touching authenticity to the role of the maid – not as easy as one might think. And what a voice! Ms. Decker should enjoy a respectable career.

Mario Rojas was amiable as Alfredo’s buddy Gastone, with a promising voice. Ricardo Josè Rivera looked young, in spite of grayed hair, but pulled off the arrogant demeanor of Violetta’s older patron, Baron Duphol. His good baritone voice displayed appropriate weight too, in spite of his youth, as did bass-baritone David Weigel as Doctor Grenvil. The Marquis was nicely sung by Christopher Kenny. Eric Ferring, Vince Wallace and Matthew Carroll also acquitted themselves well in their respective parts as Guiseppe, the Messenger and the Servant.

In the Act One party scene in Violetta’s house, the lighting, designed by Marcus Doshi, was as grey as Chicago in February. Um… do we need to point out that a lot of us go to the opera in the winter to escape the dark and the drear? Unless called for dramatically, why subject us to more of the same? The ambience was somewhat relieved by cool golden tones for the country house in Act Two Scene 1, and Flora’s party in Scene 2 was colorful with Chinese lanterns and deep, deep red tones relieved by spot lights on the singers in the concerted finale. Sadly, Act Three returned to the dark and drear, but since Violetta was now on her deathbed and presumably the creditors had taken away her belongings, it made some sense, but there was no contrast to the luxuriousness that should have been there before.

Giant puppets and cross-dressing dancers appeared in the Act Two, Scene 2 party scene at Flora’s, designed by Cait O’Connor and choreographed by Austin McCormick. Fortunately, the rather creepy and garish milieu didn’t detract from the key kick-in-the-gut moment when Alfredo’s fury at being dumped gets the better of him as he ruthlessly insults and humiliates Violetta in front of everyone.

This moving love story, the theatrical genius of Verdi, the beautiful score expertly played and the consistently first-rate singing throughout make this production worth seeing, in spite of its flaws. There are nine more performances through March 22. Verdi’s music will inspire you. If you have never seen “La Traviata”, go. If you have seen it, go again. Log onto www.lyricopera.org for tickets or call 312 827-5600.

As in a perfect storm, where a variety of different factors come together, augmenting the force above and beyond what is imaginable, Lyric Opera of Chicago brought together a group of singers who may, together and individually, define the interpretation of the music of Verdi for our time. The famous tenor Enrico Caruso is quoted as having said, “Il Trovatore is easy to produce, all you need are the five greatest singers in the world”. The Lyric Opera of Chicago has found five outstanding singers, any one of which would have made for a satisfying night in the opera house, but all together they created a perfect storm of thrilling vocalism. Implicit in Mr. Caruso’s statement is that the demands of each of the leading roles require artists at the top of their game. This ensemble delivered a performance which provided the very essence of why we go to the opera. There were moments when just the exquisite sound of their ensemble brought tears to our eyes for no other reason than the pure beauty of the human voice. The sensation wasn’t perceived so much as sustained sound, but more as blow to the chest which leapt across the footlights without warning. If you have never been to the opera, these singers will viscerally make you understand why opera is loved so passionately. If you already love opera, you owe it to yourselves to do whatever it takes to hear these singers.

Il Trovatore, or The Troubador is one of the three pivotal operas of Verdi’s middle period, along with Rigoletto and La traviata (to be heard later this season at LOC) where Verdi begins to move away from the early 19th century bel canto style toward a more through-composed music drama. The stories of Rigoletto and La traviata are more deeply personal and intimate than Il Trovatore, although the story is still based on historical themes of a very human nature, but on a grander, heightened scale. This is no ordinary love triangle - empowered aristocrat / beautiful young noblewoman / dashing rebel - the rivals in love are important adversaries in a major struggle for power which historically occurred in the kingdom of Aragon in early 16th century Spain. It is part of a period in which the common man began to assert his inalienable rights and demand concessions from the aristocracy all throughout Europe. To make it really fun, add to that an old gypsy woman, still obsessively grieving over her mother’s execution at the stake many, many years ago. In her terror and confusion at that horrible event, a baby also ended up in the fire. Ah, but whose baby? Grisly stuff, but not any worse than anything you might have seen on “Vikings” or “Game of Thrones”. Verdi pulled out all the stops to portray these immense passions. The big musical numbers are one blockbuster after another, interspersed with poignant, tender, and mournful music, all of which require every sort of virtuosity to perform.

Yet, in spite of the greatness of this opera, the improbability of the plot is considered fair game for ridicule. You may suspect Gilbert & Sullivan are parodying it in “Pirates of Penzance”, and it was the opera performed in the Marx Brothers film “A Night at the Opera”. Admittedly, there are a few times when, in lesser productions, our suspension of disbelief falls flat. Not so in this revival of the production directed Sir David Mc Vicar, a true master of stage-craft, and faithfully re-staged for Lyric Opera of Chicago by Roy Rallo. The staging challenges are deftly handled by a director who obviously loves the art form, trusts the music, trusts that his singers will communicate with the audience, and that the audience is intelligent, open, and willing to understand the intentions of the composer. Mc Vicar’s staging tells the story simply, yet with a deep understanding which enables the audience to be fully engaged, while making sure that the singers are not left hanging out to dry or trying to pull off unwarranted antics, as theater directors who don’t really understand opera insist upon through their own lack of knowledge or insecurities.

The design and style of the production is reminiscent of the paintings of Goya, conjuring images of the stark contrast between the Spanish nobility and working class. Although Goya’s paintings were of events which happened about 250 years after the historical events of Il Trovatore, the setting, designed by Charles Edwards, is evocative and workable. It is dominated by a huge wall on a turntable revealing different settings, from the fortress at Castellor, to a convent, and to mountainous gypsy encampments, allowing the action to move along without long pauses or multiple intermissions. Marco Armiliato conducted the always wonderful Lyric Opera Orchestra with a great understanding of Verdi and a keen sense of pacing. The musical and dramatic energy never lagged, yet never became frenzied. He was especially sensitive to the extraordinary singers, allowing them to be heard and, most importantly, giving them time to be sublime.

Speaking of sublime, how can we start to describe the perfect storm of vocalism which was created by an ensemble of some of the greatest Verdi voices of our age? Every singer was ideally cast in these difficult roles. Tenor Russell Thomas, who recently made a fine impression as Pollione in Norma, was well up to the daunting task of the Troubador, Manrico. His clarion tenor, so powerful at full voice, was tenderly sympathetic in the softer moments, when his color became more burnished. Manricos’ aria, “Ah, si, ben mio”, was lyrical, idiomatic and meltingly lovely. The ball-buster cabaletta that follows, the famous and rousing ”Di quella pira” was more than adequate, if not quite equal to Mr. Thomas’ complete command of the totality of the role. In fact, we felt cheated and wondered why the second verse was cut. However, this is fully understandable. Growing up with the sound of Corelli and Pavarotti singing this aria would be daunting to any young tenor, and trying to sing it too soon in one’s career is more than likely to build in habits which require a leap of faith to overcome. Mr. Russell shouldn’t be nervous. If he would approach the aria with the same superb vocalism with which he sings the rest of the role, it would be electrifying!

As Leonora, the woman Manrico loves, Tamara Wilson was nothing less than spectacular in her Lyric Opera debut. A winner of the highly prestigious Richard Tucker Award, she dazzled us with her shimmering voice, full from top to bottom, with exquisite pianissimos, stunning high notes and crystal clear coloratura. A true Verdian soprano, there was no high point to her performance. It was all superb, from her sweet “Tacea la notte placida” to the heart rending “Miserere”. Ms. Wilson presents a Leonora who is ingenuous, vulnerable, and tender, yet who displays a plucky determination, passion, and inner strength missing in many interpretations of the role. Let’s hope she returns to Chicago often!

There are very few Verdi baritones singing today who can match Artur Rucinski (or no longer with us, for that matter). In his first appearance in Chicago (oh please, PLEASE don’t let it be his last!) he was perfect, absolutely perfect, as Count di Luna. Mr. Rucinski is handsome, has a manly, but genuine stage presence, and has a voice, the likes of which we have not heard since Leonard Warren and Robert Merrill. He played di Luna as an entitled member of the nobility, but with the real life feelings of a young man, bereft of his brother, and in love with a woman who, for reasons incomprehensible to him, loves a “nobody”. His rich baritone has the power and color for his moments of agitation and anger, but most astonishing was his rendition of di Luna’s great aria, “Il balen del suo sorriso”. It is one of the sweetest and most passionate of all baritone arias, even while manically obsessing about his love for Leonora. Mr. Rucinski’s interpretation was so elegantly sung, it was like warm honey pouring from a jar. Normally we don’t give a hoot where a singer may breathe or not breathe. If a singer sings beautifully and with meaning, we’re happy, even if one needs to sneak a catch breath or two. But Mr. Rucinski’s feat of breath control in his opening phrase of the aria was beyond comprehension. Not only did he not use the opportunities to breathe during the rests which Verdi wrote into the music, he sustained the line through several phrases which united the text in a way which is unprecedented. With some baritones, it might have been a show-off trick, but Mr. Rucinski was so sincere and pure, it was as if time stood still as his thoughts and feelings flowed out of him. If we hadn’t been seated, we would have become weak in the knees.

The gypsy, Azucena, is a troubled soul. Her mother was burned at the stake for witchcraft, and she lives only for vengeance. She has raised Manrico and loves him as any mother loves her own son. The part is often played with hair-raising intensity, bordering on the grotesque. Jamie Barton was a more sympathetic character and sang the role more beautifully, not in small part due to the pathos inherent in her warm full mezzo soprano. Still chilling, yes, but believable.

The Captain of di Luna’s Guard, Ferrando, usually sung by an older basso, was impressively sung by Roberto Tagliavini. He has a marvelous, ample voice, and it is a rare pleasure to hear all the little passing notes sung so tidily. But a big voice alone is not enough. True artistry requires the expression and inflection of the meaning of the words. Mr. Tagliavini’s spectacular voice poured out in an enveloping stream, but with no variation or indication that he understood what he was singing about, even though he hails from Parma, Italy. He could become a great artist if he stopped trying to impress us with how loudly he can sing, and used the music to help explain the emotions behind the meaning of the words. Let’s hope that his musicality and artistry will develop further as his career progresses.

The small roles of Ines, Leonora’s chaperone, and Ruiz, Manrico’s messenger, were luxuriously filled by Ryan Center artists Lauren Decker and Mario Rojas.

The chorus is a big player in this opera in a Cecil B. deMille cast of thousands sort of way: soldiers, rebels, guards, gypsies, outlaws, nuns etc. All were well sung as prepared by Michael Black and well integrated into the action. The confrontation at the end of Act II was without a doubt one of the most exciting fight scenes we’ve witnessed on the live opera stage. Bravo Nick Sandys, Fight Director!

This Il Trovatore is, as we so often say in opera, much greater than the sum of its parts. The good news is there are four performances remaining November 30, December 3, 6 and 9. It’s a winner. Don’t miss it. Go to lyricopera.org for tickets now!