Concert ... Budapest

‘The cracking noise of dilapidated chairs, mind-shaking sneezes during the intervals between the movements, tiny snorts, fidgeting, suppressed coughs were always part of every, however remarkable, production.  Even if it was a masterpiece of the music literature by interpretation of any big name musician, I have not had the luck to attend a concert without these annoying distractions. On this occasion, there aren’t any whatsoever. The good old Music Hall is packed to full capacity - Even a whisper does not break the silence between the movements.  Heavy, almost palpable the silence in the auditorium, before the sounds of the dark, pulsating, powerful, and passionate music chills us to the bone, and José Cura puts us completely under his spell.’ Népszava Online, February 2008

 

 

NÉPSZABADSÁG

06 February 2008

 

Philanthropic Cura

 The tenor-conductor  is taking the baton at a charity concert

He is marketed as the Maradona of the opera world, as the big name of the new generation after the era of the “Three Tenors”. José Cura, the Argentinian tenor doesn’t care…He would describe himself as an artist without compromises. This evening the tenor-conductor is taking the baton at a charity concert of the Salva Vita Foundation at the Music Hall in Budapest and next time he is going to sing in Szeged.

 

We got to the Cultural Centre - the venue of the rehearsals in the outskirts of Budapest - at the same time as José Cura.

“What brought you here?” he asks smiling, as he sees the photographer. He shakes my hand and gives me a hug. Kisses me on both cheeks, as we have been friends for ages.  Actually, considering the number of his visits to Hungary we could have met several times before.

 “Well… I’ve been here five or six times in eight years… this is not that much!”

Journalists aren’t his favourites, but he successfully hides his dislike behind his funny-macho façade. “Anyway, are you the interpreter?” he turns to the woman next to him at the press conference and adds sarcastically, “I didn’t know who was this crazy woman constantly talking to me?”

He seems deeply immersed in his thoughts during the opening speech, in which he is greeted at the 15^th anniversary of the Salva Vita Foundation on 6^th February with a charity concert. The foundation offers a broad variety of different vocational and job opportunities for the mentally disabled, to help them find their place in society. 

When he is asked, he doesn’t hesitate with the answer. “The attitude of the foundation is what caught me. Instead of crying their eyes out, Salva Vita sets its heart to support the handicapped with different employment services.”

In comparison, he brings up his godson’s case, who was born with Down’s syndrome. “Having discussed his future with his parents, we came to the conclusion that he doesn’t need to join a special school, but an ordinary high-standard elementary school would serve his best interests.”

Nevertheless, instead of supporting the Down Syndrome Research Foundation he is the founder and Honourable President of the Leukaemia Foundation in Portugal.

“There is no one with leukaemia in my family, but one does his best to help them without personal involvement”, he says at the interview. ”One doesn’t give a thought to illness until one doesn’t need to face it. Anyway, charity is a sensitive issue, plenty of unscrupulous operators get involved in this business. As far as I’m concerned - before saying yes -I need to be a hundred percent sure about the credibility of the foundation that the money goes to the right place.” This time José’s friends, Nora Czoboly – the President of Salva Vita-- and her husband - who have been keeping an eye on its activity for years - were the guarantee.

He is pretty sure that his Requiem interpretation will take the audience by surprise and it will ruffle feathers among the critics. He doesn’t care, pleasing everyone has never been on the agenda for him.  Actually, he sees eye to eye with Verdi on this piece. According to José’s point of view this is not a slow-moving, mournful requiem but powerful, brisk, provocative, demanding music which even had the nerve to challenge God.  When he started to analyse the piece his instinct told him he had to approach the music this way, which later was vindicated by one of Verdi’s letters on the issue.

Knock-knock on the door, a signal which suggests that “our time is up within 35 seconds”, he says casually rocking on his chair. Guess what, precisely by this time we have his answer to our last question!

“Although I’ve had Otello on my repertoire for 11 years, I haven’t had too many performances yet. Last time I sang it in 2006. I’m on friendly terms with the Symphonic Orchestra of Szeged and I’ve already been on stage during the Szeged Open Air Festival. Why would I not accept their invitation? To tell you the truth, I’m completely in the dark about the director, Ferenc Anger’s ideas. I’m going to meet him now. Give me a call on Wednesday and I’ll tell you!”

 

NÉPSZAVA ONLINE

12.02.2008.

Katalin Lévay

(Representative of the European Parliament)

                                                        

THE PROFESSIONAL

Transl. MELINDA BIRTÓK

The music’s last tunes are gradually dying away. There is a man on the podium, wearing a black silk shirt and black trousers, with his back to the audience of the Music Hall. His right hand holding up the scarlet red front cover of the score of Verdi’s Requiem.

Have a look at the piece of the Divine Maestro! He is the One, the unsurpassable! Do celebrate Him!

He gives us time to enjoy the miracle for a while, and puts back the score on the music stand.

With a wave of his hand he gets the huge chorus to stand up first, and a bit later he does the same with the orchestra, giving way to a one by one introduction of the trombonists, the drummers, and the violinists.

The enthusiasm of the audience keeps rising to its height when he introduces the soloists, who - in gratitude for the acclamation - show the new spiritual beauty of their face.

Eventually - as a reward for our long waiting - he, José Cura also faces us.

 

 

Quite a few might know Verdi better than Maestro Cura, the superstar, the gifted showman, and musician who has been leading both the orchestra and his audience with irresistible power and suggestiveness for 90 minutes.  He made his name as a singer, but this time the Hungarian audience caught a glimpse of his other side.

 José Cura. He hugs Verdi’s score to his breast with complete devotion.

 It’s common knowledge that the audience of the Hungarian Music Hall is a sensitive expert and blessed with a good ear for music, but they also have a tendency for misdemeanour.

The cracking noise of dilapidated chairs, mind-shaking sneezes during the intervals between the movements, tiny snorts, fidgeting, suppressed coughs were always part of every, however remarkable, production.  Even if it was a masterpiece of the music literature by interpretation of any big name musician, I have not had the luck to attend a concert without these annoying distractions.

On this occasion, there aren’t any whatsoever.

The good old Music Hall is packed to full capacity - approximately a thousand spectators turn up - and José Cura treats both his listeners and the orchestra masterfully.

Even a whisper does not break the silence between the movements.

Heavy, almost palpable the silence in the auditorium, before the sounds of the dark, pulsating, powerful, and passionate music chills us to the bone, and he puts us completely under his spell. The chorus fills the air with powerful and clear tunes, the trombonists are unique, the soloists- Ildikó Cserna, Andrea Ulbrich, István Kovácsházi, Gábor Bretz- offer an outstanding performance.

José Cura’s unique style can conquer new generations. The classical music - which has been traditionally appreciated by a relatively narrow circle of the elder generation - might become amiable through this passionate conductor, who is also the embodiment of a ballet dancer.

All of his gestures are exquisitely polished, he performs a thoughtful, and professional choreography, mixing his fascinating motions with unsurpassed intensity.

 His body is of an Iron Man’s.

His unorthodox gestures - index finger, high up to the sky, throughout the climax of the music, irrationally long pauses between the movements, body, suggesting the rigidness of a sculpture, embracing arms in the course of the adagio - are being engraved on your heart.

 

 

Although his style is considered unusual in classical music society, this approach is well known in contemporary dance circles.

Finishing with the last accords, he produces a consciously composed sigh, which is audible even in the last row.  The pleasure of shared experience fills the air. Cura leaves nothing to chance, improvisation is not part of his arsenal.

 He is a real pro, which hopefully does not prevent him from taking pleasure in his work though!

Anyway, who cares what he feels, who cares about the lack of spontaneity, more striking was the impression he produced upon us!!!

Pagliacci ...... Vienna

 

‘Purists raged that it made no sense to have Canio sing the Prologue since the character is presumably dead by execution, and that the only survivors of Pagliacci are Tonio and Beppe. To hell with them: Cura, who has had surprisingly few performances in America but here is an official Divo with a wide and adventurous repertoire, entered on February 17 in a black jacket and white shirt and poured out the most luscious rendition of this chestnut I can recall, purposely darkening his already mahogany-hued tenor. Singing simply without added histrionics, Cura soared over the most beautiful music in Leoncavallo's opera with effortless, spine-tingling high notes that most baritones can only dream of. Okay, it may not have been kosher, but it was thrilling beyond belief, and this was just the start.  Cura was a mercurial Canio, joking with the contadini but suddenly turning explosive over the merest jest about infidelity. His elegantly-phrased, introspective "Vesti la giubba" was a match for his explosive "No! Pagliaccio non son"’   Opera News, 17 Feb 2008

Pagliacci ...... San Diego

‘If you cannot think of any reason to go and see this production, you need to consider this very important one: Argentinian tenor, José Cura.  I am not sure that I have enough adjectives at hand to describe his mastery of this role, the thrilling richness, the resounding timbre of his voice and the point perfect acting he delivered on the opening night. There was not one flaw, nor misstep in his performance and he brought admirable complexity to this part. Closing the eyes and listening to just his voice, was nothing short of stunning. When presented with the entire package, his tall, dark good looks, the passion that he gave to this performance was magical. His delivery of the ‘Vesti la giubba’ reminds us of why this relatively short aria is so well loved. Never have violent, abusive tendencies been so smolderingly sexy.’  Classical Voice, 22 March 2008

‘Much of the publicity preceding these performances concerned the appearance of superstar tenor, José Cura, as Canio. He did not disappoint. His easily produced rich tenor voice rolled out over the audience like waves in the ocean. Not only was he vocally powerful, he proved to be a committed actor as well. His 'Vesti la giubba' was worthy of comparison with any of the great renditions of that aria heard over the last thirty years.’  Music&Vision, 30 March 2008

‘Argentine tenor José Cura, in his SDO debut, effortlessly delivered a strong performance. His Canio was absolutely charming when interacting with the village children in the opening scene, sympathetically heartbroken at the revelation of his wife’s adultery, and truly frightening as his pain rose to a terrifying conclusion and the dual murder of his wife and her lover. He delivered a voice that filled this hall with resonance and richness. His “Vesti la giubba” delivered anger as well as anguish and was met with thunderous applause.’  OperaClick, April 2008

‘This time, one of the highlights was Cura's vibrant company debut as Canio, the cuckolded clown. Small wonder it's his signature role. Cura's blend of magnetic stage presence, distinctive artistry and a strong yet supple voice brought out the contrast between Canio's self-assurance as head of the travelling troupe and his crushing despair as the husband of an unfaithful wife. Nowhere was he more compelling than in the famous “Vesti la giubba.” As he applied his white makeup, he sang with heart-in-the-throat fervor, accentuating the pathos of one of opera's most famous (and wrenching) arias.’  Union-Tribune, March 2008

‘San Diego Opera has promoted its current production of the one-act operas Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci as a double-bill, but a more apt description of this Cav/Pag union would be as appetizer and main course. While Cav has symphonic beauty, fine choruses and a standout soprano, it's the Pag half of the evening that will resonate in the memories of local operagoers. Argentinian tenor José Cura's beautifully sung and ferociously acted performance as the sad clown Canio in Pagliacci is what world-class singing is all about, and he's ably assisted by a strong supporting cast, subtler direction and a more compelling story.  [Richard Leech’s] top range remained secure, but he was no match for Cura's vocal richness, seemingly effortless control and sustained, ringing top notes. Cura's a handsome, magnetic artist at the prime of his career, and it's a gift to San Diegans to have him here, if only for one-half of the Cav/Pag bill.’  North County Times, 26 March 2008

 

 

‘As the tormented clown Canio, José Cura blew the production out of the water. Yes it's a signature role for the Argentinean tenor, and yes I have heard of him, but nothing could have prepared me for this man's voice and presence. The tenor commanded a voice completely and uniquely his own. His interpretation of Canio's famous aria, "Vesti la giubba," rivals Pavarotti's famous 1974 "Nessun Dorma." Cura's rendition of Canio's anguish brought tears to my eyes.’ Voice of San Diego, 31 March 2008

 

 ‘José Cura is a tornado that sucks the breath out of the listener and creates howlers out of staid San Diegans. [I]t was Cura’s evening all the way. So assured is his performance it’s almost as if intentionally casual. See me. I can do this. It’s easy. In “Vesti la giubba” he tosses off high notes traditionally held by others because they're hard to release. He holds other high notes ad infinitum, to the edge of credibility and self-indulgence, simply because he is able to and we are willing to listen for as long as it lasts, hopefully forever. The same applies to Cura’s dramatic interpretation of the jealousy-crazed clown, thrilling, outrageous and ultimately heartbreaking.’  La Jolla Village News, 27 March 2008

 

 

‘Maestro Müller kept the show moving well from the orchestra pit, but set a rather undramatically quick pace for the show’s most dramatic aria, Canio's 'Recitar!/ vesti la giubba'... A lesser singing-actor would have found it harder to move the audience singing that thing at such a fast tempo, but then it is for occasions like this that theaters heartily pay the asking price to get an artist like José Cura to star in their shows. From the moment he first entered the stage there was no question who 'the boss' was. And then he started singing and I knew I was in the presence of a sacred monster, a kind of star who sell out the biggest of opera houses just by being in a cast. What can I say? The guy has a one-in-a-few-millions tenor voice... clear and beautiful with enough zing in it to blow the roof off a skyscraper. And he knows how to act both vocally and physically. There is so much of that irresistibly magnetic 'attitude' on the stage that the few high notes that were held indecently long wouldn't bother anyone in their right mind.’  Epinons, 23 March 2008

Jose Cura's 'Pagliacci' is 'a kind of self-portrait'

 

Valerie Scher

UNION-TRIBUNE CLASSICAL MUSIC CRITIC

March 16, 2008

Since 1997, Jose Cura has starred in “Pagliacci” everywhere from Amsterdam to Berlin, from Vienna to Verona.

But San Diego represents something special.

“I have never sung it in any part of the Americas,” he says, referring to North, South and Central. “It's an all-American debut.”

Blessed with good looks and a magnetic stage presence, the 45-year-old performer has attracted international attention as one of the leading tenors of his generation, a star whose expressive voice makes him suitable for a variety of roles.

While his repertoire includes classics by Verdi and Puccini, his signature role is Canio, the anguished clown who takes revenge on his unfaithful wife and her lover.

And to Cura, “Pagliacci” is much more than an emotion-fueled musical drama.

“For every artist, it is a kind of self-portrait,” says the 45-year-old Argentinean who is based in Madrid, Spain. “We are all clowns in the purest sense. We are there to entertain. The moment you are on stage, you are serving the public. The show must go on. That's the most important thing.”

Like Canio, Cura knows the price for being a performer is that you're not always seen as who you really are.

“Canio sings about the tragedy of the comedian. He says 'I am not a clown. I am a man. See me for what I am,' ” explains Cura, who heads a cast that also features soprano Elizabeth Futral as Canio's wife, Nedda. “That's the tragedy for all of us.”

Yet when you talk to Cura, he hardly sounds like a tragic figure. Chatty and unpretentious, he makes fun of his reputation as a sex symbol (“I am no longer the good-looking chap I was 10 years ago – my hair is leaving and my belly is coming up to replace it”).

And having studied conducting, composition and singing when he was young, and launched a major opera career when he was 30, he's clearly enjoying his multifaceted career as a conductor and singer.

“I sing much more than I conduct,” Cura says. “I spent the last 15 years learning how the hell to sing. Now that I've discovered it, it's time to take advantage of it.”

Beyond the mask

Charlene Baldridge

North County Times

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

[Excerpts]

Cura is dark as well as tall and handsome. With a steeply raked forehead/nose combination and curls like those found on an ancient statue, he resembles a Greek god. A colleague in the company of San Diego Opera's "Pagliacci" calls him "an intense artist."

Cura isn't certain how many productions of "Pagliacci" he's sung, but says it's at least 100 performances in 10 productions. He debuted in the role of Canio at the Concertegebouw in Amsterdam.

"Canio is certainly a violent guy, but not so certain is the reasons of being so. Age, alcohol, disappointment, jealousy, frustration of age? Of the ravage age is doing in his artistic career? Is Nedda running away from him because he is drunk and violent, or did he become drunk and violent because he felt Nedda was more distant each day and the feared epilogue was getting closer?

"As you see, the rainbow of possibilities is so wide that it is not enough to write it; it took me hours of confrontations when I directed the opera, finally being able to remove the thick layer of pancake that usually covers this character."

Asked to describe himself, Cura responded, "One thing I can tell you is that I am not like Canio or Otello or Samson. Usually people think that a convincing actor is so because he is like his character in his private life. 'No, Pagliaccio non son.' Look at me, I am the one behind the mask. The opera vindicates the right of the comedian to be considered beyond his mask."

Q&A with Jose Cura (via e-mail)

Q: Are there roles you still wish to learn and perform?

A: Many, but for sure three "different" challenges, different in the sense of probably unexpected from me are "Boheme," "Peter Grimes" and "Don Giovanni" (in the role of Don Giovanni, a baritone role, but he's been known to sing the Prologue from "Pagliacci" in concert).

Q: Are there other roles that you currently love to sing?

A: For sure the roles I can sing again and again without getting sick of them are Otello, Samson, Canio, Johnson, Stiffelio ...

Q: Will you ever retire from singing?

A: I hope so! I have so many things I would love to do before retiring from this world ... But let us hope I will not retire before finishing my mortgage ...!

Q: Are you still composing?

A: Yes. Just finished a cycle called "Sonetos," seven songs based on Neruda's texts, which will be soon recorded and edited for selling, and a choir in Hungary is willing to do the premiere of my "Stabat Mater."

Q: Are you still conducting?

A: Just conducted Verdi Requiem in Budapest. I am writing these answers from Berlin where I'm rehearsing a symphonic concert I get to conduct next Monday.

Star Tenor José Cura at the Deutschen Oper as Conductor

Volker Tarnow

 Versatile opera tenor José Cura conducts in Berlin

On stage, he emits the slightly menacing aura of an Argentine bull.  He fills every house with his personality as a singer, often errs with wildly forced outbreaks but also portrays characters of touching fragility.  José Cura is one of the most powerfully-voiced, most sought after tenors of our time, his depictions of Otello, Samson, and Canio in Leoncavallo’s “Pagliacci’ belonging to the most impressive available on the major stages in both hemispheres nowadays.   Cura has a significant place in the big, intimidating format of singing and dramatic art in the 21^st century.

 Nevertheless, we must not be afraid of this man.  In private he is very affable, the orchestra of the Deutche Oper have seen him these days as an obliging, always friendly conductor.  As what?  You have read properly:  as a conductor.  For that is his real profession, that as well as studying composing seriously before his voice pushed everything else aside.  “During my studies my teacher said to me:  you should sing to become a better conductor.  At the time, I was naturally very hurt.  Today, I would recommend the same to many.”

The transition to the stage came easily

The change from the podium to the stage was east for Cura—and sprang primarily from the instinctive drive for survival.  “There were difficult years in Argentina,” recalls the tenor.  “In 1983, we had our first elections, and the entire country was in a very delicate social balance.  In such a scenario, just finding work as a beginning musician was almost impossible.” Cura opted for singing, went to Italy in 1991.  He needed less than ten years to arrive at the top.  But his original dream he has never forgotten.  When he was in London in 1998, conducting and singing a CD of arias, he was asked by the musicians of the Philharmonia Orchestra why he did not take up the baton more frequently.  Since then, Cura has devoted himself increasingly to directing. He has been a guest conductor as often as his schedule as a tenor allows.

“The most important thing you can give an orchestra is the necessity of phrasing, the breathing.” Common breathing, no doubt noticed.  Teamwork is everything for him, of directing gods, little.  Certainly, they could obtain aesthetically marvelous results, but the human element remained distance, their music did not go to the heart. José Cura is certainly an emotional orchestra conductor but also concerned with the analytical subtleties.  In Rachmaninows 2nd Symphony, one of his favorites, he attaches great importance on different dynamics. Indeed, the second is very sexy, but still not a long-pop song!

He is still active as a composer

The Argentina Cura, with his Spanish-Arab ancestors, lives with his wife in Madrid.  A happy man, he views his job as a continuous recreational holiday.  “If I direct an orchestra, it marks a vacation for the tenor.  If I sing, it is a holiday for the conductor.” In May, he stages Verdi’s “Masked Ball” in Cologne.  As a composer, he stepped forward in 1984 with requiem for the dead of the Falkand War, he composed a “Stabat Mater” and has written a series of Argentine songs.0op-

Opera lovers need not panic; the stage remains a priority.  “I will continue to sing as long as I can sing decently.”  He does not plan to become a second Placido Domingo, for ordinary mortals stop when approaching sixty.  It is a comforting thought – Cura is only forty-five years old.  At the Deutsche Opera Berlin, we can look forward to experiencing him in a new Otello in 2010.  And occasionally in between as a conductors experienced in both Rachmaninov and Respighi. Whether it is in the addition to the bull remains to be seen.

Otello ...... Szeged

Verdi: Otello – National Theatre of Szeged [Hungary]

11 and 12 April 2008

Tibor Tallián

Muzsika [Music], issue of June 2008

translated by Zsuzsanna

(extracts)

 

Why does a performer of the calibre of José Cura come to Szeged to sing? […] There is something to discover in the East. People from Szeged are not afraid of their own shadows. They know that Szeged has such a unique small-town/big city flair that it catches every visitor and world stars too, I suppose. They possess a beautiful theatre, good orchestra and stable, strong company [...] so it is obvious to demand place in the inner circle of European opera houses. Let’s just remember the successful co-operation between Nice and Szeged in Faust broadcasted by Mezzo Television. […]

[…] In 1991 Cura travelled to Italy to make himself train. It was a great adventure with elemental success. As if this action would have inspired Cura to put the adventure into the leading principle of his professional life. He terrified the singing teachers and conservative critics when he plunged into the conquest of the roles of tenor in the spirit of adventure in the least recommended manner. He sang Otello the first time at the age of 34 and it was not more than two years after his first Cavaradossi. Further on, the heterogeneity of his activity, his regular conducting and recently artistic photography also reveal something about his love of adventure. Is he a Domingo-protégé? The teachers of beginner Cura obviously recognised the prospective relationship of his voice and dark, velvety timbre, its full depth and pitch that was capable of blossoming brightly on the top to the performance style of the charismatic singer in his prime. […] Domingo’s faultless singing technique, heavenly cantilena, wonderful phrases, his balance of the dramatic expression and classical stylistic sense can’t be taught and learned or copied. But Cura proved to be worthy of his great predecessor considering the unconditional control on his own abilities, his audibly unreserved emotional-vocal devotion and the way he keeps the balance of his technical-artistic discipline and economy. There is no doubt: it feels good to listen to his singing and it is a pleasure to notice that the voice itself is only an adorned servant in the service of communication. This communication can only be realized in the singing voice in accordance with the written and unwritten golden rules of the great Latin or rather Mediterranean traditions (as Callas was Greek). This is true in the case of the role of Otello as well.

 

 

Well, yes: why does he do Otello ten years after his debut in Torino, which was succeeded by several dozen repetitions and accompanied by word-wide acclamation? […] Even if the artist’s ambition of self-realization that adventures in many directions can bring José Cura to the bank of Tisza river [to Szeged]; why doesn’t he give an aria evening or choose a less tormented role of soul and body than the Moor’s character? Adding to the unparalleled risk of Otello: the question is whether the theatre would capable of presenting two other proper protagonists as Desdemona and Jago without whom it would be impossible to play a great Otello. While I was watching the strapping-springy, youthful figure of the tenor, who did not spare himself for a single moment and sacrificed himself in every second on the performance of 11th April; perhaps I found the answers to these questions. I think his purpose was precisely to test himself and his colleagues. Almost chamber staged circumstances and a company of whom he could suppose maximum co-operational willingness; a new direction what he can master and transform it and also something from the attitude of the Maestro (since he regularly conducts): saying I will take you with me for one or two evenings where I am at home.

I have known from my kind informant that only a moderate success crowned the daring venture. [a remark from the translator who was also attend in the theatre: this information was wrong, since huge success and standing ovation granted Cura’s first night and the whole performance on 9th April]. But I believed and did not believe my informant after the course of the second evening. I believe him, as I wasn’t fascinated by his first appearance: since “Esultate” sounded securely and powerfully, but rather incidentally. It did not stroke into the semi-darkness of the typical Italian operatic introduction like a thunderbolt. But I do not believe it, since the desired conditions of weight were already settled by the time of Otello’s returning. In the love duet Cura even managed to swing the performance into the sphere of timeless with his gentle-virile vocalism and stage presence what was free of all kind of poses and allures of a tenor. But in this action he was not alone. Though Szilvia Rálik’s voice doesn’t convey an ideal Desdemona, […] there is no doubt about her musicality and receptivity. Beside Otello her tone begins to blossom, the intensity of her singing increases, her acting becomes more substantial. It was she who put the vocal crown to the finale of the third Act with her shining-saturated voice that easily cut through the whole ensemble. She did it as it needed. […]

Cura also had a catalysing effect on Zoltán Kelemen’s Jago. […] Like a hunter who is only excited by the shooting of a capital stag, Jago’s wickedness can also obtain its meaning and shape from a real Otello. The physicality of Otello’s personality – and thus the actor’s physique who plays it – contributes to a very great extent to the authenticity of Otello. The unbearable final scene of the third Act can be ruined not only in Jago’s but in Otello’s point of view as well, if Otello – would be a tenor. By surprise Cura’s physically genuine radiation pulled out Zoltán Kelemen from his almost amateur stage reserved attitude that choked his Luna to low flame [in Il Trovatore]. But at the same time I was delighted to see that his previous helplessness on the stage did not turn into a ham grimacing with which many former famous Jagos got used to frighten the more sensitive-nerved spectators in the Credo. I do not hesitate to praise Zoltán Kelemen’s slim-solid, accurate and equalised Jago which is unavoidable in the character as a stunningly, promisingly good achievement – not only in relation of the county of Csongrád. What a pleasure!

And how was José Cura singing starting from there, as far as I followed him some paragraphs above, from the beginning of the second Act? I am tempted to answer this: I don’t know, I don’t remember, I don’t care for it. I am not sure whether José Cura sang or he was on the stage at all. Because Otello himself was present on the stage. In other words, I don’t know, how I could know if Otello is like this. I was fascinated and shivered to notice somebody who found himself in the turmoil of self-doubtfulness. It is terrible: the male, the hero realizes it suddenly: maybe he is even not he; he is not a male and not a hero. The doubt takes shape in the external form of jealousy. This is such a mental illness as the imagined cancer which drives many people to suicide. This led Otello into this situation too, but in an indirect way – on the altar of illness he sacrifices his anima, Desdemona first, then himself. His shockingly obvious stage presence practically obscured Cura’s professionalism of the best sense of the word: I only realized this quality during the performance on the next day [with the other singers]. At that time I could analyse how precisely the Argentinean went through the prescribed situations of the direction on the one hand, and how many [things] he added to it from his own – from the experiences of other performances – on the other hand. I can say only one thing: he strangled Desdemona with his kiss!

And of course, he sang outstandingly. He sang – and he did not allow any temptation which is endangered to Otellos: to forget the score. Yet his singing sounded like a speaking, a mental manifestation. I think this very concretely and not in a figurative sense; Cura goes as far as he can but no further considering the rhythmic freedom of declamation, the quasi-prosaic thickness of the notes and the dissolution of the cultivated singing voice into speech sound. This exemplary interpretation was a holistic experience [….].  Tamás Pál conducted the orchestra playing in heated form in the first night with tempi of grandseigneur and the deep understanding of the Things. […]

‘One suspected a hurricane had announced itself, one anticipated to arrive at the end of the first act immediately following the duet of Otello and Desdemona.  When José Cura stepped before the curtain for his solo curtain call, the bravos swept his hair back like a ride in a convertible. And at the end the opera house shook for fifteen and a half minutes with rhythmic clapping and innumerable bravos as even the second tier patrons rose from their seats for a standing ovation and rhythmic clapping and roses rained onto the stage. A powerful Otello:  José Cura was on from the opening, singing “Esultate!” with immense vocal resource.  His expression of fury and despair, colored with a slightly baritonal voice with excellent top notes, in “Niun mi tema” was world class—a real treat for opera fans. Cura did not retreat to cheap tenoral tricks: the occasional sob turned out to be very attractive, especially since no one else today delivers them in this way.  This Otello was a performance of sheer joy….’ Neue Press, April 2008

 

‘A request you follow joyfully: “Esultate!” demands Verdi’s title hero vividly at his very first entrance. The sheer glory of the Italian dramatic tenor voice is mirrored in this exclamation, when Otello raises his voice over the acoustic waves of orchestra and chorus. What more could one expect from world-class tenor José Cura, who appeared in the newly revived series of Festlichen Opernabend (“Festive Opera Evenings”)? Cura’s performance in Hannover can safely be counted among the great musical events in the city’s history.  Not because an international opera star appeared and sang well but because his characterization added the decisive weight to a performance and lifted it from the good towards the extraordinary and turned it into an unforgettable night at the opera’.  Hannoveriche Allgemeine, April 2008

Concert ...  Düsseldorf

‘José Cura prowls the stage as softly as a lurking tiger.  The 45 year-old Argentinian wipes his medium long curls, dripping in sweat, from his face as he engages in his sport of singing.  The audience responds with frenzied ovations. Bravos urge him on again.  The testosterone tenor unleashes one thousand volts. Especially in the middle range he shines, carrying a glowing power, rather baritonal in weight and brilliantly dramatic.  Immediately you see a figure of suffering—flesh, blood, tendons, and muscles.  He stormed the summit of bel canto with baritone Boris Statsenko in the Libertá duet between Don Carlos and Marquis Posa.  Here, Cura demonstrates how he works, with passion and pathos.  Opera needs this Latin American for such spectacles.’  NRZ, 20 April 2008

Tosca ...... Karlsruhe

‘José Cura, one of the few who have proven to be a world star since the collapse of the classical record market, performed for the second time in the local production, and it would be difficult to find a more convincing Cavaradossi today in his baritonal timbre, the moving piani of ‘O dolci mani’ and his creative power of interpretation of the role.’  Badische Neueste Nachrichten, 22 Apr 2008

Un Ballo ...... Cologne (Director)

A drama about sex, jealousy and politics

Der Welt

 

For the Argentine singer José Cura the term Testosteronschleuder (testosterone singer) was coined—beautiful and hideous at the same time and impossible to ignore. It was an idiom happily used by magazines: the singer is a disciple of physical fitness, which lends him the extremely attractive appearance of a competitive athlete.  From the press photos we see an audacious, laughing Latin lover, the first gray strands barely affecting the machismo. 

 Years ago the Testosteronschleuder was proclaimed the tenor of the 21st Century, a marketing ploy that did not exactly a bust but did not work out as smoothly as expected.

Three weeks ago, Cura celebrated in Düsseldorf at a public gala.  Now the singer, who among other things studied composition, began as a conductor, and is a photographer, has added another profession in Cologne.   At the opera house he will direct Giuseppe Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera – A masked ball.

[…]

At the doors of the Cologne Opera he waits: José Cura is indeed big and athletic--but the swelling body builder biceps can answer no questions.  He is friendly, reserved yet cordial even while his glowing black eyes (really!) appraises the reporter with seasoned caution.

The next surprise:  the conversation takes place in the café in the neighboring theater, where no hyena agent waits, only the assistant director sitting there.

Cura is attentive, focused, speaks in fast, efficient English which is remarkably soft-sounding.  He actually has no time, since he is in rehearsal every minute, but he is willing to stop his directing to explain his concept of the Masked Ball and the necessity to transform opera in the 21st century.  As a representative of the one-dimensional Kulinarik, the word ‘subtext’ passes easily over his lips, as if he is a pioneer in the school of Regietheater.

Indeed, this is not his first time as an opera director, he admits, because he staged Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci in Rijeka, CroatiaDie nächste Überraschung: beim Gespräch im Erfrischungsraum des benachbarten Schauspielhauses lauert keine Agenten-Hyäne, bloß die Regieassistentin sitzt dabei., last year. The offer from Cologne – the planning stages at major stages is known a long time in advance – is already three years old.  The decision to direct an opera is therefore older than the first practical experience with it:  an irony of the international opera business.  At that time, Christoph Dammann offered Cura the Masked Ball and Cura was happy to accept because, he said, “I know the work particularly well. I have sung Riccardo and conducted the work on several occasions.  Now I direct and have done almost everything else.  Perhaps next time I might sing the Amelia…”

Cura’s primary job is ‘theater animal,’ knowing full well that there is more monster than pet in that, yet he presents himself as a professional in a polite, friendly way.  Whether as an experienced singer, now a director, he gives his colleagues on the stage advice is a topic he dismisses almost brusquely, particularly the role of Riccardo which he himself has not sung in twenty years.

He prefers to talk about his staging concept, for which the Riccardo of Cologne ensemble member Ray M. Wade is the linchpin:  “In the first act there is a scene in which the high judge needs Riccardo’s signature for a conviction.  It is for the fortune teller Ulrica who, in the words of the judge is dell' immondo sangue dei negri – from the impure blood of the negro.”

The judge says this tremendous sentence to Riccardo.  “And our Riccardo, Ray M. Wade, is black!  With this sentence, there is an added, explosive effect.  This masked ball is suddenly no longer just a political conspiracy, a plot whose action centers on lies and love, sex and jealousy, but rather a racist conflict that intensifies.” 

For Cura, the attitude of the establishment, to which everyone except the ruler Riccardo belongs, includes Amelia, the woman he adores, and her husband, Renato, by whose hand the governor will die.  It is no coincidence that the large portrait of Riccardo Cura has hung obliquely displays a suspicious similarity between Ray M. Wade and the dictator Idi Amin.

Riccardo is certainly not a positive hero but a broken man whose own violent past and nightmares finally catch up with him.  It is just like Shakespeare, Cura repeats several times, and says that the Mask Ball is not actually about love but power. The only true, selfless love, according to Cura, is found in the page Oscar.

The racial aspect as the cornerstone of the plot is not the only possible interpretation of the Masked ball, but this cast met with his concept of the famous opera quite perfectly, Cura says. He doesn’t want to bludgeon the audience with a sledgehammer, however.  “The conclusion I leave to the audience, along with the question: could all that happened be to cause a black ruler to fall and bring a white government to power?”

 

José Cura Debuts as an Opera Director

Schwabische Zeitung

February 2008

Hamburg (DPA).  The Argentine star tenor and conductor José Cura (45) is now working as an opera director.  On 17 May 2008, he will make his directorial debut at the Cologne opera with Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera (The Masked Ball)

“Of course, Germany is a marvellous place for directors, because the audience is actually must more open here than elsewhere,” said Cura in an interview with the magazine “Das Opernglas.”  However, this openness also allows for the risk that the director ignores the balance between modernity and tradition.  “This for me is the big challenge,” said Cura.

Acting is a hobby of his, said the world-famous singer.  “Directing is the next step – like the famous actors who sometimes change side of the camera after many years of experience with good directors.  In film this is not unusual and often is more substantially appreciated than in the concert hall.”

His main focus will continue to be singing, assured Cura.  “For quite a simple reason:  I pay my bills by singing.” As a director he is a beginner and is paid appropriately.  “My pay as a director--for this whole production!--corresponds more or less with what I earn in a single evening as a tenor.”

In the future, the singer wants to venture into Wagner.  In 2010 he will sing Parsifal in concert at the Deutschen Oper Berlin.  “This is my first to see how it goes.” Wagner excites him but it also frightens him because of the language. 

If a Singer Switches Sides

Olaf Weiden

8 May 2008

Kölnische Rundschau

 

Somehow, it is like a very beautiful blonde woman:  few expect further talents from them.  Now comes to work in Cologne at the Opera a man whom the magazines of the 90s proclaimed the ‘ideal man for public eroticism’ because the hot-blooded Argentinean posses black curls, a triumphant look, and a well trained body which he earned himself once as a rugby play and fitness trainer.

The man who has become the ‘tenor of the 21^st Century’ as a member of the first team of opera stars also appears a conductor, has studied composition, and is a notable photographer.  This essence of pure masculinity, named José Cura, is now being presented to the audience of the Cologne Opera by its outgoing director, Christoph Dammann, as a director. 

José Cura has not yet been a director but after the Cologne “Masked Ball” by Verdi he can add this professional title to his job list. … And so it was important to be allowed to experience José Cura in a small press conference in which he puts all the inflated agencies and magazine rubbish on a human level: not at all disagreeable, not at all superficial, this Cura, who is really interested in his current assignment.

He became a tenor for money

At 15 he stood in front of an orchestra for the first time as a conductor.  Then he added singing. “I needed money,” says José Cura, “and as a conductor, I earned nothing. As a singer, I could help out in the choir, sing in the church, in front of the department store with a hat, and pay my rent.  That is the true story.”   Today, he directs for a few which as a singer he would earn in a single evening.  “It is a great experience,” he says.  And he looks forward to the next day, even if it is 16 hours long:  “This is a vacation for the singer – despite the heavy work load.”

He has made a good impression from the ensemble, which hopes the reverse is also true.  What director can easy go to the piano, discuss a scene or demonstrate by singing, discuss the music and then shortly afterwards go into technical talks with the lighting master?  “You must decide whether you want to sound good or look good,” says the tenor who’s the experience as an active opera tenor included shining beside Anna Netrebko at the Cologne Arena and at the Cologne Opera in "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "Pagliacci."

In his staging of Un ballo in maschera he wants to especially thank his dark-skinned Riccardo (Ray M. Wade), for the particular spotlight it throws on racism.  The fact that the director usually receives boos does not bother him. According to Cura, “With a credible approach and a good ensemble to implement it, I am well prepared.”

‘The predominant tessitura of Samson is congenial to both the beautiful voice of José Cura and his temperament.  The broad timbre, encased in burnished velvet, is at its best in the middle tones…in the third act the singer offers the best of himself and the results are excellent, showcasing a man defeated but not tamed, making credible and touching the prolonged moral agony.  This Samson, in fact, is not drawn from the religious, maintains at all time a very strong human nature with no hidden ‘divine mission,’ combining fragility and vulnerability to make the events even more tragic.’   Teatro.Org, 6 June 2008

 

‘The Bologna season ended with a resounding success for Samson et Dalila, marked by the rhythmic ‘ola’ of the final applause.  Principle merit must be attributed to that vocal and interpretive hurricane who answers to the name of José Cura. One of the roles felt most keenly by the Argentinean tenor from Rosario is Samson.  There are few to turn to now for the role:  with the abdication by Domingo, Cura is the only Samson.  Beyond the undeniable stage presence, it must be noted in this role [Cura’s] obvious musical engagement in respect to the score and in adherence to the signs of expression, arriving at a display of unthinkable and sweet mezzevoci in the vocal surrender, where the timbre of precious bronzed amber stands out in all it manly beauty…  When he is on stage he is the catalyst who demands the attention while the other struggle twice as hard to be noticed.'  L'Opera, Aug 2008

 

‘The merit of the final scene goes to José Cura, who seems reborn and purposefully refining the interpretation of the role that fits him so perfectly.’  La Repubblica, 2 June 2008

 

‘With great pleasure we found José Cura in wonderful form, extraordinary in stage craft and incisive in accents and phrasing.’ GBOpera Magazine, 11 June 2008

 

‘With his natural fighter’s temperament, José Cura mesmerized the audience and it would be difficult nowadays to find a more convincing Samson with the requisite quasi-baritonal qualities.’  Opera Now, September/October 2008