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Biblical Blockbuster Daily Telegraph
Matthew Rye Camille Saint-Saëns's Samson and Delilah is one of the Cecil B De Mille epics of opera. Spectacle, seduction, betrayal and drama, all are brought together in the composer's concise but flamboyant reworking of the biblical story about the hero with the lethal coiffure. And, with Samson's final, self-sacrificial flexing of his muscles, it's a work guaranteed to bring the house down. Yet so vivid was Colin Davis's account of the opera that the lack of staging barely mattered. In the opening scene, with the London Symphony Chorus on wondrous form, the plight of the imprisoned Israelites was unmistakable. The cataclysm of the collapsing Philistine temple in the closing bars was all there in the music. Samson seemed the natural work to explore after the phenomenal success of Berlioz's The Trojans a couple of years ago, and, for all his long experience in Mozartian opera, it is in epics of this scale that Colin Davis's musico-dramatic skills really come into their own. Here, the LSO responded to his every wish, battering the senses in the great climaxes, caressing the ear with the oriental exoticisms without which a biblical blockbuster would hardly be complete. Davis's genial baton manner seems miles from the ferocity of a Solti or the ardour of a Gergiev, yet he can still inspire his musicians to extremes of expression. Samson is a favourite role of Latin tenors, and José Cura has already made it something of his own. Apart from his rather stentorian first entry and that grating Latinate habit of being unable to approach notes without swooping up to them from several pitches below, his was a passionate account of the role.
Samson et Dalila, Barbican, December 2002: “A palpable throb pulsed through the audience around me each time Cura slid on to the stage. Such was the chemistry between the two [leads] that, by the arrival of 'Mon coeur', one of the sexiest love songs in all opera, they could not resist sidling closer to each other, joining hands, then arms, then... well, one feared where Cura's fingers might wander next as he gently crooned: 'Da-li-la' into her elegantly receptive ear.” The Observer, December 2002
Samson et Dalila, Barbican, December 2002: “Now the role is taken by the most carnal of tenors, José Cura, who plays Samson as a feral creature, barely in control of his emotions. You have a real treat in store.” The Guardian, December 2002
Samson et Dalila, Barbican, December 2002: “The love duet before Delilah betrays Samson is one of opera's purple patches, the tingle factor a high-voltage shock, particularly as performed here by the virile, piratical Argentine José Cura. The real star (of the evening) was Cura. He gets some stick from the British critics and it's true he is more of a dramatic than a lyric tenor but he's an accomplished conductor as well as singer, and around his lynchpin role the rest of the cast were able to shine. The way his voice filled and thrilled the hall will be an abiding memory.” The Mail on Sunday
Samson et Dalila, Barbican, December 2002: “As Samson, José Cura appears to [stake] the part out as a prototype for the overwrought verismo heroes who let every emotion hang loose. Using all the resources of his powerful, baritonal tenor, Cura gives a characteristically unbuttoned performance that improves as the evening progresses. His first entrance may show him to be loud and somewhat cavalier about pitch, but he is most impressive when he quiets down. His characterization could be deeper but perhaps we should not expect too much subtlety in a religious maniac.” Time, 18 December 2002
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