Displaying items by tag: Enrico Caruso

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!