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Reviews - 2006 |
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Andrea Chénier Music Web International Göran Forsling This is not the only
DVD version of what nowadays seems to be the only surviving Giordano
opera – there is at least one with Domingo and Tomova-Sintow, which
I haven’t seen, apart from a couple of snippets on a Domingo
portrait DVD. In sound only format I have long treasured a Decca
recording from the 1950s under Gavazzeni, more for Tebaldi’s
deeply-felt Maddalena and Bastianini’s gloriously sung Carlo Gérard
than for Mario Del Monaco’s unquestionably thrilling but stentorian
Chenier. The best version – and I haven’t forgotten the Pavarotti/Caballé
effort on a more modern Decca – is for my money the Levine RCA set
from the 1970s with the glorious trio Domingo-Scotto-Milnes audibly
inspired and involved.
GIORDANO: ANDREA CHÉNIER (DVD)
Opera News Roger Pines
December 2006
The Life, Love and Death of a Poet - A Perfect Andrea Chénier
il Giornale
Alberto Cantú
Impeccable direction, costumes and scene by Del Monaco, convincing cast with
José Cura at his best.
(excerpts)
After
[what seems] years José Cura has put down his baton and returned to the
stage in a role that, with his lirico spinto voice and handsome looks,
leaves the impression was written specifically for him. His return is marked
by newly formed brilliance and expressive new maturity…only in rhythmic
order does he remain the ballet dancer of the past.
Cura
sings “Improvviso,” which is certainly not a piece of candy in its phrasing,
lyricism and fervor, with ease (“drinks it like a pair of fresh eggs”) and
the audience erupted in applause. In his farewell to life, “Come un bel dí
di maggio,” he offers soaring high notes held with long breath but also
softness and mezzo voce, dynamics this singer would not have employed just a
few years ago.
Otello in Barcelona
Cura es Otello
EL PAÍS
11-02-2006
His was not the only
triumph. At his side the Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova
captivated with her sensational Desdemona. Hers is a lyrical voice of
great beauty, with sufficient volume used with taste and transmitted
with both sweetness and firmness. From the most delicate song through
the most agitated, from the loving yearning of the first duet to the
chill of death in the voice, Cura and Stoyanova communicated the
feelings of their characters with great dramatic veracity. Vocally, the
Georgian baritone Lade Atanelli shone but his interpretation of the evil
Iago did not work. Wonderful performances by the Italian tenor Vittoria
Gigolo, a Casio with a voice of great quality, and the Georgian mezzo
soprano Ketevan Kemoklidze as Emilia. Attentive and efficient in
control of the dynamics, Antoni Ros Marbà directed Otello with
more attention to the balance of the orchestra than to details of the
dramatic tension. The chorus did what they could, confined to a narrow
space that did not favor the expansion of voices. Willy Decker designed an
exhausting and claustrophobic production, in which everything is
sacrificed in service to a psychoanalytical reading of the drama,
somewhat pedant in its eagerness for scenic purification: a unique
staging, empty and steeply inclined with an omnipresent gigantic white
cross. Moros y Cristianos en el Liceu
The Chenier on this new set, filmed as recently as at the beginning
of this year, José Cura, reminds me of Domingo, not only for his
looks and natural stage appearance but also for the whole-hearted
identification and the generous outpouring of golden tone. Domingo
functioned as a mentor for Cura in the beginning of his career and
was the conductor for what I believe was Cura’s debut recording, a
thrilling Erato disc comprising every tenor aria Puccini ever wrote.
Passion was a keyword for that disc and passion is what he emits in
this role from the very first appearance, with a glowing Un di
all’azzurro spazio. He sings the furious Si fu soldato in
the trial scene (act III) with no safety net. The sad Come un bel
di di maggio in the last act is begun almost as a dream, lightly
sung with some embellishments to the line before he opens out to a
heartfelt, glorious climax, greeted with ovations from the audience.
By his side, just as in the La Scala Manon Lescaut, he has
the charming, expressive, warm Maria Guleghina, whose vibrant voice
is a perfect foil for Cura’s impassioned Chenier. She sings a deeply
felt La mamma morta in act III, almost in the Tebaldi mould
and both singers rise to ecstatic heights in the final scene. Carlo
Guelfi as Carlo Gérard may pale a bit beside these two volcanoes but
his is still an authoritative portrait of the
servant-turned-revolutionary leader. Although a somewhat stiff actor
he delivers an intensely captivating Nemico della patria in
the third act. He also has the looks for the character, who seems to
be a forerunner to Scarpia but with a heart.
Costumes and sets are period, all the nobles white-powdered and
made-up, lending a feeling of authenticity to the proceedings. Some
of the sets are more symbolic, especially the giant bars that are
lowered when the death sentence of Chenier is being pronounced at
the end of act III and which remains as the only prop – maybe it
could be entitled front-drop – during the short final act.
There are several good actors and singers in the long list of
secondary roles. There’s a lively Bersi, a powerful Roucher, an
impressive Mathieu and a strong Madelon standing out. Carlo Rizzi
draws impassioned playing from the orchestra and paces the drama
convincingly. Not being musically on a par with Puccini’s
contemporaneous creations this work has to rely even more on
conviction from the performers. This rendering managed to get a firm
hold on at least this viewer. The well-known set pieces naturally
stand out from the surrounding music where some local colour is
provided by the quotations from the Marseillaise.
With such obviously involved and visually engaging singing actors,
the video director Paola Longobardo has wisely chosen to present
many of the key moments in close-up, thus bringing the viewer
palpably into the action. Sound and pictures are state-of-the-art
and with 44 cue-points it is easy to pick and choose among one’s
favourite moments. While I am not going to separate from the
Gavazzeni and Levine sets, the present one will occupy a place of
honour alongside the oldies and with the added visual impact it may
often in the future be a first choice.
Guleghina; Cura, Guelfi, Cigni; Orchestra and Chorus of the
Teatro Comunale (Bologna), Rizzi. Production: Del Monaco.
TDK DVW OPACH, 123 mins., subtitled
This
2006 performance finds José Cura fully immersed in the drama
of the title role. Chénier's Act II dialogue with Roucher
makes an especially powerful impression, with the poet
obviously in agony not knowing the identity of the woman who
wrote to him. The tenor offers gratifyingly secure vocalism
throughout, giving maximum vocal thrill to all the
set-pieces. Were Cura to articulate the text more
incisively, he could bring even greater authority to this
impressive portrayal.
Like her leading man, Maria Guleghina is a real stage
animal, her chemistry with Cura instantly palpable. Although
a blonde wig does her striking good looks no favors, she is
at ease before the camera, sensitively presenting
Maddalena's emotional journey from girlish frivolity to
despair, then hope and finally ecstasy. At full throttle
Guleghina's singing isn't always ideally focused or pitched,
and she is either unwilling to use chest voice or hasn't
any. Still, the ample reserves in this wonderfully meaty
instrument are welcome indeed.
Carlo Guelfi's Gérard, while beautifully enunciated, is
disappointing in its threadbare tone (except for a few
strong top notes) and a characterization neither passionate
nor threatening enough. Carlo Cigni's appealing Roucher
excepted, the supporting singers perform poorly — dull Bersi,
near-voiceless Incredibile and wobble-prone Countess,
Madelon and Fléville. The Teatro Comunale's choristers enjoy
themselves hugely as both aristocrats and revolutionaries.
As usual, the Act I "Pastorelle" ballet is tedious, even
silly. Carlo Rizzi lacks the ultimate excitement on the
podium, but he draws generally excellent playing from
Bologna's orchestra, while imparting an elegance to this
music that it seldom receives.
Director–designer Giancarlo Del Monaco emphasizes the
extreme artificiality of the nobles' world in Act I
(clown-white faces, big spots of rouge and massively curly
wigs for all the party guests). Act II shows little more
than an enormous hanging rug with an opening for entrances
and exits, plus a prominently placed obelisk, in front of
which sits a statue of the dead Marat in his bath. The
makeshift courtroom for Act III works well, as do the jail
bars reaching the full height of the stage in Act IV. In the
opera's final moments, the lovers climb up the bars,
stopping midway to reach through them into the light — the
most affecting moment in an otherwise conventional staging.
The fine video direction delivers any number of splendid
reaction shots. TDK offers satisfyingly full- bodied sound.
Javier Pérez Senz
To
speak of Otello is to speak of voice. José Cura has the vocal coloring,
the power and strength, but above all the dramatic temperament that this
colossal Verdi character demands. His best weapon, over and above
technique and style, is his stage presence. In his visceral
interpretation, the Argentine tenor strips the character of all nobility
and puts himself into his skin and tortured psychology in such a way
that he fills the stage and tirelessly maintains the dramatic tension
until the anguished finale. Cura is Otello. It’s as simple as
that.
La Vanguardia
Roger Alier
11/02/2006
The Liceu has done nice work in presenting ‘Otello’, vocally the
most demanding opera of the mature Verdi, with one of the best teams
possible at present. To start with, there is José Cura in the leading
role, a role in which he succeeds Maestro Placido Domingo. If he
couldn’t make us forget him, at least the level of his performance was
excellent, as much in the vocal as in the dramatic sphere. Cura proved
himself an excellent actor on stage, which, in this Shakespearean drama,
is much to be thankful for. His powerful voice, moments of intensity and
sense for the dramatic made for a role of great vibrancy.
Another gem in the production is the magnificent Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova. Her portrayal of Desdemona was luxuriant, not only in the musicality and elegance of her phrasing but in her pure vocal timber and its capacity to transmit the humanity of the character to us; she was even able to make the tedious “Canción del sauce” fascinating, closing with an “Ave Maria” that richly deserved the ovation.
[…]
But to narrate the story in an empty square, already a passé fashion, was poorly and insipidly done: Desdemona dies not in bed, but across the wooden cross that was the torment of the staging: brandished by Otello and Iago as weapons, thrown to the floor - - with the corresponding noise - - and broken in two by Otello himself (symbolizing his rejection of the Christian faith.) The characters must sit on the ground: there is very little Shakespearean about it at all.
But in short, we have seen worse things and also without furniture (Lucrezia Borgia, Don Carlo, and so on) and we will see more as long as the dictatorship of the present sort of artist prevails.
An Otello to Enjoy
La Razón
Gonzalo Alonso
Excerpts
Otello,
by Giuseppe Verdi. Interpreters: J.Cura, L.Ataneli, K.Stoyanova,
V.Grigolo, V.Esteve, G.Giuseppini, F.Santiago, K.Kemoklidze, etc.
W.Decker, director. A.Ros Marbá, conductor. Production from del Gran
Teatro de Geneva. Teatro del Liceo. Barcelona, IX-2-2006
The great Verdi opera, the favorite of music lovers if not musicians (for them it is ‘Falstaff’), has returned with a cast of singers that can perhaps be matched but not surpassed at this time. The truth is that at the Liceu, they know how to do this really well: from the three main characters to the last supporting one, they maintain a level of quality worthy of praise. José Cura can be a real ham--and he is--and he can blur some characters, but nowadays, there is simply no one else who knows how to make so much out of the Venetian Moor. He sustains the character vocally and dramatically without having to resort to baring his chest, because there is a much more athletic Cassio for that.
He was stunning in an impressive ‘Esultate!’. He glossed over a few notes in the love duet in order to make it more accessible, but he was irreproachable in the duets with Iago and Desdemona as well as in his two great solo scenes. It is a pleasure to be able to listen to an Otello like that, one who doesn’t make the spectator suffer in the least, when there have been outstanding Otellos who have had difficulties in the second and third acts.
Lado Altaneli possesses one of the better baritone voices at this time but he does not enter into the character of Iago, walking through scenes without developing it and finishing as if he had made no great effort. Krassimira Stoyanova dominates the part of Desdemona, among others things because she had taken not of how Mirella Frena song the role. The voice is pretty and sufficient….
José Cura, Lado Ataneli y Krassimira Stoyanova in Verdi's Otello at the Liceu
Canto Lirico
Joaquín Fachado
24 Feb 2006
Excerpts
OTELLO
Composer:
Giuseppe Verdi.
Interpreters: José Cura, Lado Ataneli, Vittorio Grigolo, Vicenç Esteve Madrid, Giorgio
Giuseppini, Francisco Santiago, Roberto Accurso, Krassimira Stoyanova,
Ketevan Kemoklidze. Coro y orquesta del Liceu.
Conductor: A. Ros Marbá.
Director: Willy Decker.
Staging and costumes: John Macfarlane.
Lighting: David Finn.
Production: Théâtre de la Monnaie de Bruselas y Grand Théâtre de
Ginebra.
Opening Date: Gran Teatre del Liceu (15/02/2006).
Eighteen years after its last staging, Otello, if not the most popular than surely one of the most complete operas of the ‘farmer of Roncole,’ as Verdi called himself, returns to the Barcelona theater.
For such a demanding work, the Liceu managed to bring together a truly luxurious cast, including the first rate José Cura and Lado Ataneli in the main roles. Nevertheless, based on listening alone—because there was so little to see—the great winner of the night was the Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova, who managed to vocally outshine her co-stars by virtue of her lyrical singing…Incomprehensibly—probably due to exhaustion—she developed a light and uncomfortable vibrato during Ave Maria. A true pity.
In the title role, José Cura demonstrated that he is currently one of the best interpreters of Otello on the international stage. He relied on his middle voice and pianissimos, leaving for specific moments the vocal generosity required by the role. He is prone to use vocal excess to disguise the fact that the singing line is not properly projected in some passages. In spite of that, and thanks to his charisma and great theatrical gifts, Cura offered an exciting Otello.
Coming from Brussels and Geneva, the production by Willy Decker deserves a chapter aside. Just as we indicated previously, we listened more than we saw, because the opera is set on a completely deserted stage, with the exception of only two decorative elements (a great multipurpose wood cross that even served as the deathbed for Desdémona, and a gigantic mirror) and with the characters placed between four walls. For even greater glory, the floor of the stage was sloped. Simply lamentable.
Before such narrowness and difficulty, the Chorus of the Liceu did what good they could do, as did all the singers who were so little added from the pit, where Maestro Ros Marbrá seemed more occupied with the musicians than the lingers, with a noticeable disconnect between the voices and the orchestra, primarily in the first act. Fortunately, the only interval served to clarify concepts and from the third act the musical direction obviously improved.
Otello at the Liceu, a Memorable Evening
Concert Classic
18 Feb 2006
François Lesueur
After Andrei Serban’s pointless ramblings and wild imaginings on the stage in Paris, it is nice to be able to savor a show that is successful in visual terms and coherent in its dramatic composition. Sticking to a single set, Decker and his set designer John Macfarlane enclose the action within a box, its walls red and its floor severely tilted, which is enough to make for an oppressive atmosphere and to render the slightest movement awkward and uncomfortable. Even the trees, whose branches ought to offer reassurance or soothing shade, strike poses that frighten and can in no way be taken to presage anything happy about that island. In this Venice, an artificial and arbitrary recreation on Cyprus, the stage director has retained only stereotyped images, which are all straight out of the carnival-like paintings of Tiepolo and in which the cheerful mood is deceptive, true feelings being masked.
In this hostile environment, Otello is no longer merely a hero of great appeal, respected as much as feared. Affected by an unknown ailment that weakens him, he suffers physically before he is put to the test psychologically and morally. It doesn’t take Iago long to perceive this, and he proceeds to take advantage of Otello’s vulnerability in order to bring about his downfall all the better. The Moor, wasted thus by illness, is an easy prey that is going to be brought to a tragic end by the doubt and jealousy instilled in him by this deceitful Iago. The mental destruction to which Otello falls victim is, therefore, irremediably linked to his physical decline. In the person of José Cura, Willy Decker has a truly first-rate artist at his disposal to portray this complex being that is under fire every which way. The tenor, at his peak in terms of his voice as well as his expressiveness, lives the role, and the way in which he takes over and fills the space (on stage) is exceptional. His metallic timbre with its burnished sparkle, his projection and the intensity of his accentuation are ideally suited to his character, with whom he seems to have become identified ever since he took on the role in 1997.
Of sensual charm and animal magnetism in the love duet, the actor later gives free reign to his uncertainties and to his pain in terrible epileptic fits, where he whimpers, moans, groans and twists down on the ground with confounding realism. Praying, uttering blasphemies, and clinging to a simple, omnipresent wooden cross that is like a fallen crucifix, Otello has come back to Cyprus to suffer, to humiliate and degrade himself, and to die under sinister Iago’s gaze of satisfaction and approval. Whatever admiration one has for Cura’s vocal stamina, good looks and naturalness, it is impossible to resist his commitment and his emotional investment, which gives rise to such a deeply felt performance. Galvanized by his presence, the Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova, giving her debut at the Liceu, is a remarkable Desdemona. With her natural sensitivity and sweetness, she is marvelous in espousing the portrait of a woman of cruel fate who is made to die in spite of the purity of her sentiments. An accomplished musician, this singer possesses a voice of rich and subtly colored timbre, which soars above the ensembles and triumphs in a Willow Song that is as disconcerting as it is moving.
Lado Ataneli obviously knows his Iago down to his fingertips, giving us a solid and detailed interpretation, which is reassuring as far as the future of Verdian baritones is concerned. Vittorio Grigolo’s youthful and very physical Cassio, Vicenc Esteve Madrid’s honest Rodrigo, Giorgio Giuseppini’s elegant Lodovico and Ketevan Kemoklidze’s striking Emilia complete this choice roster. Lastly, the superlative conducting of Antoni Ros-Marbá at the helm of the Symphonic Orchestra of the Liceu is an additional asset: overall balance, sharp tempi, and precise contrasts ensure relevance of purpose and work together to make the precipitation of the tragedy, which moves along as if on the wings of one breath, even more irrevocable. A memorable evening.
Francois Lesueur
Translation: M.B.
Otello
ABC
Pablo Meléndez-haddad
11 Feb 2006
This Verdi masterpiece is only mounted when the right interpreter can take the lead; in this case, that lead was the singer considered to be the most outstanding Otello of the moment, José Cura, who resisted the usual ‘Del Monaco’ interpretation to fill his character with edge, pianissimos, and middle voice. That’s not to say everything was taken care of, perhaps too much so, which affected the emotional highs when he was vocally generous, when he used that steel and silver-bell timbre that is so unique to Cura. The best of his beautiful singing voice lay in the highest notes, better, when he sings ‘forte;’ that, in addition to being a stage angel, makes him a theatrical winner.
The Argentine tenor moved as best he could, considering the unusual staging of Willy Decker. The production forced an almost ‘anti-opera’ effort from the singers, so that vocal projection was a joust, with the soloists having to sing almost hooked to the walls, creating terrible visual effects that in turn created very bad lines of sight (for the audience). For that same reason, Decker, as if a novice in this type of theater, destroyed some of the greatest moments of the character, as when Dio! Mi potevi scagliar was sung facing a wall. And this was not the only charge, as at the end of the third act, or in the Canción del sauce … His staging is common and obvious—suddenly Decker says: ‘I will use a moral, social, and religious symbol: I have it! A Cross!” – a brilliant idea – with ‘commedia dell´arte’ raised the Cypriot tone and with also an obvious wink at the triangle of the protagonist, made for uncomfortable theater, with uncomfortable suits, cold, without a vision of the internal motivation of the characters. All this without mentioning the steep slope of the stage….
Lado Ataneli removed the charm from his Iago not only with the sharp strangled sounds of the Roderigo, bebiam! but by the abuse of the portamento …and, above all, by his problems with tuning and being incapable of emitting a well-supported piano. The temperamental and childish Cassio of Vittorio Grigolo contributed a vitality that did not find response, while Vicenç Esteve gave his all to his Roderigo. The Emilia of Ketevan Kemoklidze was a true luxury, next to the revelation of the night, the Bulgarian soprano Krasimira Stoyanova, a singer of perfect, pure line control…A promising début.
BARCELONA – Otello, Gran Teatre del Liceu, 2/9/06
Opera News
Roberto Herrscher
May 2006 , vol 70 , no.11
The
Liceu’s Otello was one of the most eagerly awaited entries in
the current Barcelona season because of the presence of José Cura,
the Argentinian tenor that the media is presenting as “the” Otello
for the twenty-first century. Three years ago, when Cura replaced
José Carreras in a performance of Samson et Dalila at the
Liceu, patrons who were able to catch a glimpse of this intense,
original performer started spreading the word that those who cared
for opera in the city should wait for his return. Last year, Cura
shone in a concert performance of Verdi’s rather sketchy Il
Corsaro, in which he gave ample evidence of his acting skills
and dramatic tenor, but local fans have since been waiting for a
look at this artist in a staged performance of a more demanding
role.
This was Cura’s chance, and his Otello did not disappoint the
Barcelona public. Cura’s Otello is a performance that the Liceu
audiences will remember for a long time: a profoundly felt, well
considered depiction of a man’s descent into madness, paired with a
true vocal tour de force. Cura’s tenor is sometimes strained
and the sound is not always pretty, but his technique and the
communicative powers are astounding. The voice and the force are
certainly closer to those of Jon Vickers — the great Otello of the
1960s and ‘70s — than of Plácido Domingo, the artist who has owned
the role for the last quarter-century.
The Liceu production, which Willy Decker created for La Monnaie, is
minimalist and symbolic. As the opera progresses its visual
metaphors build a claustrophobic parallel reality that mirrors — one
presumes — Otello’s disturbed mindscape. The only elements on stage
are a slanted black box, closed on three sides and able to open in
the back for dramatic images of a cloudy or starry sky; a huge white
wooden cross; and a mirror that covers half the stage for the “fassoletto”
scene in Act III.
The chorus – a well-trained, impressive body under the direction of
José Luis Basso – found it hard to move in such a small space,
notably during the initial storm and in the scene with the Venetian
ambassadors. But when the three principals were left alone to unfold
their tragedy, Decker’s precise choreography and the singers’ acting
talents produced a most powerful performance.
Lado Ataneli created an evil Iago with a sympathetic, appealing
edge, which made Otello’s trust in his lieutenant understandable.
His voice sounded robust and grainy throughout, and his Credo was
impressive. Kassimira Stoyanova was a noble, hurt and confused
Desdemona with a soft, velvety and well focused instrument. Another
asset in this strong cast was the matinée-idol creation of Cassio by
Giorgio Giuseppini [ed: Vittoria Grigolo played Cassion;
Giorgio Giuseppini was Lodovicio], a lyric tenor of sizeable
voice and interesting acting skills. His Cassio was intelligent and
dramatically savvy — very different from the usual interpretation of
this character as an inoffensive fool.
Verdi’s wise, passionate score was served with precision, gusto and
a keen ear for drama by maestro Antoni Ros-Marbà and the solid,
malleable Liceu orchestra.
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Belfast Festival Tuesday 24 October, Irish Times Michael Dervan
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Ever-charming Cura wows the audienceTuesday 24 October, NewsletterAndrea Rea
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Charismatic Cura Impresses
Saturday 21 October, Belfast Telegraph
Rathcol
José Cura is a rare find. As well as being a talented vocal actor that has the physicality to add a sense of realism to popular operatic roles, he is also a skilled conductor.
Last night’s opening concert of the 44th Belfast Festival saw the Argentina tenor perform with the Ulster Orchestra in the Waterfront Hall. A few empty seats did not detract from what proved to be a magical evening.
Conductor Mario de Rose led the Orchestra through the beautifully delicate Prelude from Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana. Cura began his performance offstage, later casually strutting around to envelop the audience with his powerful presence as he performed Sia Gloria ai canti … cielo a mar from Ponchielli’s La gioconda.
The charismatic performer next switched roles to conduct Giordano’s Prelude to Act 2 from Siberia. Cura’s relationship with the orchestra blossomed as he interpreted Giordano’s Come un bel di maggio from Andrea Chenier and the short but sweet Amor ti vieta from Fedora. A passionate Intermezzo and Ariadi Canio from Leoncavallo’s I pagliacci followed.
Puccini’s touching E lucevan le stelle from Tosca, and the crowd-pleasing Nessun dorma from Turandot, signalled the end of the programmed concert. However, Cura was far from finished. Three encores later, this international star was met with a standing ovation.
It is no easy task to adequately express a character within just a few minutes of music but José Cura managed it with aplomb. Praise must also be given to the accompaniment. As Cura exclaimed: “What an orchestra!”
Memorable Cura!
Monday 23 October, Irish News
Ruth McCartney
The opening concert of the Belfast Festival at Queen’s is always a great source of conversation and a much talked-about affair. Without a doubt, this weekend’s concert, featuring José Cura and the Ulster Orchestra, in Belfast’s Waterfront Hall, will be discussed for a long time to come. To enlist an international opera star like José Cura is a real triumph for Queen’s. This is a man with a hectic schedule around the world opera circuit. The Argentinean-born tenor has won critical acclaim both as a singer and a conductor. On Friday night he entertained the crowd with his sheer excellence in both capacities.
The concert began with the Ulster Orchestra playing Prelude from Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana. Cura kept us in suspense as he sang from off-stage. When he entered, he radiated a warmth, magnetism and great sense of enthusiasm which won the audience over straight away. In his chosen selection of songs, which included Leoncavallo’s Aria di Canio from Pagliacci and Verdi’s Morte di Otello, from Otello, Cura displayed his complete mastery of vocal technique. His phrasing was always perfect and his seemingly inexhaustible voice just floated up to one stunningly brilliant top B after another. His strong voice could be heard clearly throughout the auditorium from any point that he moved to on stage, even when his back was to the audience as he faced the choir stalls. Cura seems to surrender himself totally to the characterisation of each role and his disciplined singing and passionate expression were supreme.
He had a very relaxed manner for a super-star and one wouldn’t have expected him to take time to search out in the hall the school choir who greeted him at the airport on Thursday or to applaud the Ulster Orchestra so warmly, but these little touches and his infectious sense of enthusiasm added to his enormous charisma. The Ulster Orchestra responded well to all that was asked of it in the romantic accompaniments and in the stand alone pieces. Both harpists played very sensitively throughout.
Cura’s broad talents were clearly displayed in his conducting skills in works such as Sinfonia from Verdi’s La forza del destino when conductor Mario de Rose stood down to let the great man take to the podium. After a few lollipops such as Puccini’s E lucevan le stelle from Tosca and the ever-popular Nessun dorma, Cura returned to the stage to perform several encores and received a standing ovation from a very appreciative audience. This was a very memorable occasion. Well done Belfast Festival!
Magic Charm of Famous Tenor
Jutarnji List
18 July 2006
Branimir Pofuk
To all who ventured yesterday evening to windy Trsat it is now certainly clear how José Cura wins the hearts of audiences around the world. His charisma? Certainly. His wonderful and strong voice? Even more so. But above all, it is his complete absorption in the music that makes the characters he sings come alive.
We finally saw and heard the famous tenor in Croatia, but his singer’s abilities are currently as strong as his career, on the other hand his career still has many years to reach its zenith.
Apart from that we heard a very carefully chosen programme, without “O sole mio” and other similar “canzone,” that always and without any risks warm up the audience.
I have never had such a deep opera experience as I did during this concert performance. It is impossible to find on our opera stages such dramatic feeling, in both singing and acting, as the famous Argentinean was able to achieve on the 1.5 square meter of the Trsat stage, without the use of any stage props; his partner, equally moving, was Croatian mezzo-soprano Dubravka Separovic-Musovic.
The concert began with key moments from Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana. After the overture Cura appeared as Turiddu singing the “Siciliana,” which he sang, as is the custom in opera performances, from behind the stage. After that our mezzo-soprano sang Santuzza’s aria “Voi lo sapete, o mamma,” followed by the passionate duet as the lovers quarrel. “Intermezzo” was then performed by the HNK opera orchestra, conducted by Nada Matoshevic, to complete the brief excursion into this one-act opera, which Cura performs once more at Arena di Verona on Wednesday.
The concert then moved into the more dramatic repertoire: Cura introduced the very suggestive aria from Giordani’s opera Andrea Chenier, “Un di all’ azzurro spazio (Improvviso).”
The best moment of the first half of the evening came next. As the orchestra played the Intermezzo from Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci Cura appeared, fully absorbed into the Canio’s character, crossing the stage with the heavy moves of a man affected by jealousy, bringing with him a chair on which he sang the touching “Recitar – Vesti la giubba.”
After the intermission Cura interpreted, one after the other, the two exceptional tenor arias from Puccini’s Tosca – the first from early in the opera and the next from its finale. Then excusing himself with “Scusi Padre Serafino” – directed to the smart host – Cura took the baton to direct and transmit, in front of the walls of the Trsat Franciscan cloister, his energy toward the orchestra, conducting the orgiastic Baccanale of Saint-Saens’ Samson and Dalila. Then the most magic moment of the night arrived.
Even as “Samson” remained on the podium, Dubravka Separovic-Musovic sang the charming love aria “Mon coeur…” to him and only him. Then came the miracle moment of great artistic power and the magic of chemistry between singers, when Cura, at the end of the aria and while still conducting with his right hand, stroked her cheek with his left hand and replied to her with his singing.
With the same emotional intensity both singers entered into the main characters of Bizet’s Carmen. Such a seductive and vocally confident Carmen as offered by Dubravka Separovic-Musovic doesn’t exist on Croatian opera stages. Cura replied with Don Jose’s love aria “Flower song.” The last scene, after which we were left again (like after Cavalleria rusticana) with the impression we had seen and heard the whole opera, brought us a finale with two strong personalities and two great singers.
Having charmingly communicated with the audience in Italian, Cura offered as his first encore a love song from his homeland, accompanied by only a harp, and finished the performance showcasing his magnificent heroic voice with the famous tenor aria “Nessun dorma” from Puccini’s Turandot that brought the audience from their chairs to their feet.
From Verona, where they had seen performances of Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci, to Rijeka had come several Cura admirers from various countries for this concert.
An unforgettable concert by the star Argentinean tenor at Marijin Perivoj – Trsat
Rijeka Summer Nights: World's Top Tenor
Vecernji list
18.07.2006
Denis Derk
Not only was Mani Gotovac successful in bringing the great opera superstar José Cura to “Rijecke ljetne noci”(Rijeka Summer Nights), but she also didn’t exaggerate tickets prices so that regular people and not just celebrities could come to Marijin Perivoj on Trsat. And it was really something to hear and see.
The Argentinean tenor (and conductor, composer and soon perhaps also director) is in his prime singing years and in top form.
Under windy and chilly skies (Cura constantly remarked on the cold weather) he sang seven famous tenor arias (including both Cavaradossi arias), several duets and an intimate Argentinean love song about the ideal woman.
He finished the extremely demanding concert for any tenor with Calaf’s aria “Nessun dorma,” triumphantly interpreted in such a way that one can hear only in an exceptional live performance.
Brilliant Acting
Cura showed that he is as dangerous as a panther for his partner, because he sings impulsively, almost unpredictably, and acts gloriously, and it doesn’t matter if it is concert performance, for he fully controls and dominates on stage, as when he used a nearby chair to sit on for Canio’s aria “Vesti la giubba.” Cura had wisely chosen a programme in cooperation with conductor Nada Matosevic, who very gently and carefully led the orchestra of the Rijeka opera house. He also had a very good supporting partner in outstanding mezzo-soprano Dubravka Separovic-Musovic, who was a big surprise for the audience in Rijeka.
She didn’t overwhelm Cura, but she equally “fought” as a seductive Dalila, a vicious, defiant Carmen and a desperate Santuzza. Their deeply passionate duets, especially Dalila’s love aria “Mon coeur,” during which Samson only briefly expresses his love and desire, could perhaps be considered the high point in the concert as a great example of complete singers’ and actors’ feelings, during which the audience nearly became indecent voyeurs. Cura kept hold of his baton as he sang during this duet.
I
n fact Cura was able in a very short time to get into the spirit and the very friendly atmosphere of the place that prevail in Trsat, as he demonstrated when he asked Padre Serafino to excuse him when he was going to conduct Saint-Saens’ Baccanale, which he graciously mentioned means orgy, so near the wall of the cloister.
Cura Lifts Audience from Seats
Novi list (Rijeka),
18.07.2006
Kim Cuculic
The famous Argentinian tenor José Cura, who presented his concert within the frame of Rijeka Summer Nights in Marijin perivoj, Trsat, last night, fascinated more than 1,000 opera lovers from not only Croatia but from other countries with his inspirational interpretations.
He had an excellent partner in mezzo-soprano Dubravka Separovic-Musovic, a soloist from the Zagreb opera, and the orchestra of the Rijeka theatre, conducted by Nada Matosevic, showed good effort.
The concert opened with the overture and Siciliana from Cavalleria rusticana by Pietro Mascagni and the first half included an aria from Santuzza, a duet between Santuzza and Turiddu and the intermezzo from Cavalleria rusticana as well as arias from the operas Andrea Chenier and Pagliacci, whereas the second part of the program consisted of arias from Tosca, Samson et Dalila and Carmen.
Cura sang the Siciliana from the window of the Trsat cloister’s dining-room and for the aria “Mon coeur” from Samson et Dalila Cura demonstrated another specialty – he sang and conducted in the same time.
After the long-lasting applause of the audience, who had been lifted from the seats by Cura’s brilliant achievement and after repeated exclamations of “Bravo!” Cura gave as an encore a traditional love song from Argentina – his homeland--and the famous aria “Nessun dorma.”
An organized party in the premises of the Trsat cloister was held after the two-hour concert.
Don
Carlo
Vienna - 8 December 2006
M. Lehnert, Opernglas, Jan 2007
What other house in the world can offer anything comparable? The evening before the premiere of “Arabella” at the Vienna State Opera one could experience a memorable “Don Carlo,” which was remarkable on several levels. A picture-perfect singing cast did credit to their names and performed the four act Italian version of the opera under the competent and prudent direction of Marco Armiliato. That it had been excellently rehearsed became clear in the numerous duets, trios, and quartets. It was also clear with Simon Keenlyside, in his role debut at the Vienna house as Marquis Pose, who sang so synchronically and stylistically perfectly, harmonizing ‘not only in the timbre’ with José Cura, that the musical level immediately electrified. Rarely does one hear such interesting, refined, and otherwise perfect vocals from two such equal singers….
Overall, the Argentinian has a shattering interpretative presence and his highly disciplined vocal style, effortless production, and virile tenor timbre hit the nail on the head in his musical interpretation; so much so that it overshadowed most of his colleagues. That obviously means a certain danger for other prominent names, particularly as this character is an important mosaic stone in the documentation of role versatility (and makes) the name of “Cura” stands stronger today than ever before.
The market value of Marco Armiliato might also have risen, since he managed to lend Verdi´s Don Carlo, which is plunged in dark colors, transparency and perfect acceleration. This culminated in a great moment of choir, orchestra and singers – the whole Viennese state opera.
Vienna – Don Carlo
"Thrilling Corelli-like sustained top notes...."
Opera News
April 06
Larry L. Lash
In the garden scene of Wiener Staatsoper’s revival of Pier Luigi Pizzi’s Don Carlo (seen Dec. 11), the audience was treated to Eboli emulating golden-age diva moves; Carlo on his knees, banging his head in a Marlon Brando impersonation; and Posa, deep in Shakespearean soliloquy, talking to himself in Italian. Verdi’s brooding masterpiece needs great singers, to be sure. It would also help if they had some stylistic similarities, a few rehearsals and maybe a director.
Pizzi’s stark settings and gargantuan iron gates force the action downstage. This probably worked when director and cast had ample time to dissect the interpersonal relationships of this complex tragedy, but seventeen years later, the present cast, assembled for five performances, had perhaps two days of rehearsal. Four of the five were new to the production.
José Cura, a “Method” actor if there ever was one, cut a dashing figure in black leather with a red ribbon; his Carlo was unhinged from the get-go. The role lies perfectly for his chiaroscuro-producing, baritonal tenor, permitting some indulgent but thrilling Corelli-like sustained top notes.
From the moment Posa bounded onstage, Simon Keenlyside firmly established his mesmerizing, naturalistic presence. There is a boyish, playful spontaneity to everything he does, a meaning from every glance, every movement of a finger. Suave in style, Keenlyside made a thing of beauty of the trill most baritones fake and showed a seemingly endless, ringing top.
As Eboli, Luciana D’Intino seemed to be channeling Fedora Barbieri, complete with register breaks, glottal attack, attacked-on gusty bottom register and out-stretched palms. Every aspect of her high-camp attack seemed calculated to the nth degree (including a kiss tossed at the podium after “O don fatale”), but it was, nevertheless, an exciting performance.
Almost thirty years after his company debut and Filippo, Matti Salminen, giant of stature and of voice, proved he still has the goods. The slight wobble entering his sonorous black bass only served to heighten the vulnerability he brought to the role, making his artfully shaded “Ella giammai m’amo” incisive and triumphant.
In such extroverted company, Olga Guryakova basically stood still, fingering her crucifix, trying to look dignified. While she has the porcelain beauty of a Russian ballerina, one wanted a warmer, more Verdian sound for Elisabetta, with more bloom on top.
Grand Inquisitor Kurt Rydi’s voice is amazingly similar to Salminen’s (how interesting to have two legendary Hagens onstage together!), but Rydi’s now sounds covered and wobbly. Vladimir Moroz sang the Herald’s four solo a cappella lines so sharp that the chorus followed his pitch, embarrassing themselves at the orchestra’s reentrance.
The only reason such disparate forces managed a coherent, compelling performance was the hard work of Marco Armiliato, the glue that held the whole affair together. Brilliant in the dramatic sweep of the auto-da-fe ensemble, passionate and turbulent in the prelude to Act IV and thrillingly building momentum in the final duet, Armiliato elevated a mid-season repertory performance to something musically unforgettable.
Miami Concert
Miami Herald
Lawrence Budmen
November 11, 2006
Tenor José Cura and Brazil's Orquestra de Sao Paulo were the combustible combination at the Concert Association's first program at the Carnival Center's John S. and James L. Knight Concert Hall on Thursday. With conductor John Neschling firing up the Latin-accented musical offerings, the energy level never flagged.
The Sao Paulo ensemble is an orchestral powerhouse that can hold its own on the world stage. Antonio Carlos Gomes' Overture to Il Guarany showcased the group's crisp winds and thunderous brass. Neschling played this Verdi imitation to the hilt.
The ensemble's lush strings shone resplendently in the opening movement of Heitor Villa-Lobos' Bachianas Brasileiras No. 4. Neschling brought coherence to this unwieldy mixture of Bach, Tchaikovsky, Hollywood, and indigenous Brazilian music. A pupil of renowned Viennese pedagogue Hans Swarowsky (who also taught Zubin Mehta and Claudio Abbado), Neschling is a superb orchestra builder and musical colorist who brings subtle musicality to the flashiest of scores.
The orchestra's final tour de force was Ginastera's Estancia Ballet Suite. Ravishing duos of flute and strings captured the languorous sentimentality of the Wheat Dance. A high-voltage rendition of the concluding Malambo brought the audience to its feet.
Cura, however, was the concert's real draw. At a time when the opera world is searching for replacements for the beloved Three Tenors, Cura has the vocal resources and charisma to make his presence felt.
This tenor's vocal ardor and darkly burnished lower and middle registers have the allure of Plácido Domingo but his singing can be uneven. Vesti la giubba from Leoncavallo's Pagliacci was emotionally over the top, sung at an unrelenting forte. In two arias from Puccini's Tosca, Cura's impassioned vocalism and sensuous, dulcet soft tones held the house enthralled.
In two boleros (Somos novios and Esta tarde vi llover), Cura sang with the casual ease of Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett. But three arias and two pop songs was rather paltry for the audience of approximately 1,700 that paid $75.00 and $125.00 for top seats in the 2,400 seat hall.
For encores Cura offered a lovely, surprisingly understated Spanish love song (with exquisite harp accompaniment) and a ringing, stentorian version of Nessun dorma from Turandot. By sheer force of voice and personality, Cura came and conquered, but vocal lovers deserved to hear more of this powerhouse tenor in the operatic oeuvre for which his voice is so well suited.
Tenor's powerful presence marks opening at Carnival Center
By David Fleshler
South Florida Sun-Sentinel
Posted November 13 2006
Argentine tenor José Cura's dramatic flair showed up early in his performance Thursday at the new Carnival Center for the Performing Arts.
As the Orquestra de São Paulo played the prelude to the famous Vesti la giubba from Pagliacci, an imposing, dark-haired man entered (through a door marked Exit), carrying an ordinary black chair over his shoulder, unsmiling and ignoring the audience. He held up a hand to quiet the trickle of applause, set the chair by the conductor, sat down and put a hand over his eyes as the orchestra finished the introduction.
"Recitar!" he began, and launched into a dramatic and powerful expression of the clown Canio's grief over the betrayal by his wife.
The concert, which began at the weird hour of 9 p.m., marked opening night for the Concert Association of Florida in its new home at the Carnival Center's Knight Concert Hall in downtown Miami. The glittering crowd was wowed by Cura's performance and the superb playing of the Brazilian orchestra.
Cura, who just sang Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera, has a powerful voice, although it lacks the brilliance and spine-tingling high notes of some of the great tenors. His tone and phrasing weren't always polished. But like Maria Callas, who also possessed uneven vocal equipment, he moved the audience through the sheer dramatic force of his voice and manner.
In E lucevan la stelle from Tosca, he let a sob creep into his voice without doing too much violence to the vocal line, to express Cavaradossi's love and grief on the eve of his execution. He possessed complete freedom on the stage. He dared to turn his back on the audience to sing to the second violins and cellos. He picked up a microphone and softened his voice to a croon for a pair of dusky Boleros by Armando Manzanero.
The orchestra, which once tottered on the verge of extinction, now has ample government support, an international roster of musicians, and a clear, rich sound. The brass played with power and not a hint of rawness, with fine work particularly from the French horns. The strings shimmered and sang, playing with impressive unity of attack, under the genial but firm direction of conductor John Neschling.
Their performances of Villa-Lobos's Bachianas Brasileiras No. 4 and Ginastera's Suite from the ballet Estancia displayed the freedom and expressiveness that comes from careful preparation and intimate knowledge of the music.
The wildly applauding audience was rewarded with three encores, although about a third of the crowd missed the last one by rushing to their cars.
"Last time I was here, the hall was full," Cura observed. "So for you who stayed..."
He then launched into what's probably the second-most-famous aria in opera (after Vesti la giubba), Puccini's Nessun dorma, literally ending on a high note as the roar of approval from the audience drowned out the orchestra.
The Argentine Tenor
Diario Las Américas
The Argentine tenor José Cura captivated the Miami public with his voice and his affection. The applause given, without a doubt, was a measurement of the degree to which the public was taken with this singer, and in this case that applause became delirious when he gave as the last encore the famous aria from Turandot, Nessun dorma. Cura broke with the formality that normally prevails between the singer and the public for when it was his turn he talked, displayed his sense of humor, and created a rapport (with the audience).
It has been a long time since we have listened to a heroic voice such as Cura’s, which unites a temperament that knows how to imprint each passage with the required emotion. He reminded us of Franco Bonisolli: a powerful voice, with a dark but sparking timber, easy high notes, solid and firm. As we said, his interpretation of Nessun dorma drove the public crazy, with the great dramatic quality that he imparts and with an impressive long note
Cura included folks songs which demonstrated the perfect control he has over his voice—that is, Cura sang the songs as a balladeer rather than as an opera singer.
NEW YORK CITY — Tosca, the Metropolitan Opera, 10/29/06
Opera News
Judith Malafronte
January 2007 , vol 71 , no.7
The star of the
revival of Puccini's Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera (seen on
October 29) is Franco Zeffirelli's 1985 production, with its sumptuous,
realistic Roman settings, featuring a super-sized ecclesiastical pageant
swamping the nave of the Church of Sant'Andrea della Valle, a
luxuriously gloomy apartment in the Palazzo Farnese (complete with
secret passageway) and a spectacular sunrise over the ramparts of the
Castel Sant'Angelo. In this revival (and in several previous outings),
Act III did not include the moving split-level jail-cell contraption and
is more effective without it. The Act I set's angle of perspective
places the audience in a corner behind the high altar, with spaciousness
conveyed by gigantic arches and clerestory windows; a fun touch here is
the introduction of a tourist who consults his guidebook to appreciate
the artwork and can hardly contain his excitement when, still hanging
around at the end of the act, he has a front row seat for the Te Deum
procession.
On opening night, an indisposed Andrea Gruber was replaced by Maria
Guleghina. Guleghina, who has appeared in the Met's Tosca since
1991, is no stranger to the Zeffirelli production. Her old-fashioned
verismo acting served the title role well, and her interpretation is
fully worked out, though her girlish characterization of Acts I and III
made the events of Act II a bit of a stretch. As the core disappears
from her voice, a troublesome wobble now disturbs the upper middle of
the soprano's range; she relied on uniformly loud and unnuanced singing,
except for a few emergency pianissimos. In spite of attempts all evening
to micromanage, conductor Nicola Luisotti, making his house debut, was
unable to control Guleghina's rhythmically indulgent "Vissi d'arte."
In frustration, it seemed, Luisotti waged war on tenor José Cura,
stopping at every barline in "E lucevan le stelle," but he proved effective
at generating a long orchestral line. Cura pulled off the most effective
performance of the evening, with consistent tone, dark and rock-solid,
and credible acting. The Scarpia of James Morris, unfortunately, showed
neither vocal nor sexual menace, but Paul Plishka's seasoned Sacristan
was a model of effective vocal and dramatic characterization.
Fred Kirshnit
October 30, 2006
The Sun
"Tosca" began its season run at the Metropolitan Opera on Saturday evening with an unexpected cast change, a major debut, and a veterans returning in a signature role. The three principals together mounted a colorful, if a bit gritty, performance.
Singing the title role was soprano Maria Guleghina, substituting on short notice for the troubled Andrea Gruber, who was ill. Ms. Guleghina had the role two seasons ago, and I wrote at the time in these pages that her acting ability was superb even as her vocalizing was somewhat haphazard.
Saturday night she wore the tiara, pendant earrings, and necklace originally designed for Maria Callas, and now housed by Swarovski. Although Callas and Ms. Guleghina are very different singers, there are two points of comparison that help define the latter. First, like La Divina, she is an actress of astounding ability. Contemporary audiences at the premiere of Tosca would have remembered the performance of Sarah Bernhardt in the play by Victorien Sardou. Critics said that her laying out of the body of Scarpia was both frightening and holy. This current player has taken the measure of this role, elevating the art of opera acting — not, after all, known for its subtleties — to new heights in this devastatingly intimate performance.
Even the most ardent of her fans — and I am one of them — admit that Maria Callas did not have a conventionally pretty voice. Her secret was what she did with what she had. Ms. Guleghina is also in this category, although with a very different type of voice. Her instrument is powerful and solid, adept and accurate, but not usually described as beautiful. However, on this night she came close, her "Vissi d'arte" not only moving but lovely as well.
Making his debut in the role of Cavaradossi was Argentinian tenor José Cura. When I heard him two years ago as Samson in the Saint-Saens, I was disturbed by his bellowing, but this evening he was actually quite good — he maintained a smooth lyrical line while intoning at an impressively high volume level. And he was a natural partner for Ms. Guleghina, who is also a champion projector. Their "Non la sospiri la nostra casetta" has to be one of the loudest ever, but neither sacrificed any intonation for this house-filling sound. Mr. Cura's "E lucevan le stelle," his character's last big number and one of Puccini's most poignant compositions, was really very moving.
James Morris returned as Baron Scarpia — a little raspy, but somehow his growl was just perfect for this naturalistic trio of singers. All three were a little grainy in their respective throats, but this only ornamented an altogether earthy performance — a little like an Anna Magnani movie. Mr. Morris is also a fine actor and his scene with Ms. Guleghina was a perfectly choreographed murder. There were some initial coordination issues between the substitute soprano and the conductor, but no worries of blocking. She always knew where to hit her marks.
The rest of the cast was fine. Paul Plishka once again resumed the role of the Sacristan. Mr. Plishka is a wonderful character actor who can still make his presence known. Bernard Fitch was a suitably reptilian Spoletta, and my favorite music in all of Puccini was admirably realized offstage by Deena Sydney Fink as the shepherd boy.
The story of the night, though, may well have been in the orchestra pit with the excellent leadership of debut conductor Nicola Luisotti, who grabbed our attention from the first notes and kept up an intensity rare for a non-Levine performance at the Met. Having three such prodigious singers allowed him to let loose the forces of his magnificent instrumental ensemble without worrying about drowning out the stars. He made the most of his opportunity.
This was performance number 881 of "Tosca" at the Met. Maybe this wasn't the most beautiful "Tosca" in memory, but it may have been the most memorable for quite some time.
A Wise Choice
Clive Barnes
New York Post
October 30, 2006 -- OPERA has its warhorses - those popular operas that everyone knows, at least by name. Down played by the snootier of critics, they are the people's choice. And none the worse for that.
The past few days have witnessed a gallant procession of these warhorses returning to the Metropolitan Opera: the often unjustly maligned double bill of "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "Pagliacci," followed by "Rigoletto" and finally, last Saturday night, "Tosca."
Puccini's "Tosca," most eloquently conducted by a welcome Met newcomer, Nicola Luisotti, is high melodrama brought to vivid life with what Noel Coward would have called "its potent music."
A famed opera diva, Tosca (Maria Ghuleghina), murders a corrupt chief of police, Scarpia (James Morris), in an attempt to save her revolutionary lover, Cavaradossi (José Cura) from the firing squad. Magnificent blood and thunder stuff set to a score of sugary beauty.
As the glamorous Tosca, Ghuleghina was replacing the ailing Andrea Gruber, but, fortunately, she is among leading Toscas of our day and has often appeared in this lush Franco Zeffirelli staging.
Here completely matched by Cura's impassioned tenor with his splendidly natural acting, and Morris' sturdily evil Scarpia - even though now some the role lies a little high for his voice -
Ghuleghina's carefully individual phrasing made this a Tosca of very proper romantic heartbreak.
The New York Times
Anne Midgette
A few things were supposed to be newsworthy about the Metropolitan Opera’s first “Tosca” of the season on Saturday night. It was to be the first Tosca of the American soprano Andrea Gruber, and she was to wear the stage jewels Swarovski made for Maria Callas’s first Met Tosca in 1956.
But illness forced Ms. Gruber to cancel the performance. (She is to sing her next scheduled “Tosca” on Wednesday.) It was left to Maria Guleghina, a figure familiar to Met audiences, to assume the (literal) crown. The crystals seemed to symbolize the weight of past tradition this role represents: glittering and heavy, with a clunky tiara.
The real news about the evening began with Ms. Guleghina’s strong, passionate performance. After hearing her Santuzza in “Cavalleria Rusticana” on Thursday, it was striking to hear her voice so lightened for Tosca — a sign that she adjusts her vocal color and approach to fit a particular part. This speaks well for her artistry, and for her Tosca: the pitch problems that dogged her top notes as Santuzza had all but vanished.
Along with vocal freshness came a girlish exuberance that counterbalanced the raw passion of Act II with lighthearted flirtation in Act I and giddy, punchy elation in Act III.
Playing right along was José Cura’s bad-boy Cavaradossi. Mr. Cura has a strong, able voice but sings as if determined not to give anybody what he or she wants by doing anything obvious. He focused on understatement, singing darkly and with such a deliberately casual air that his phrasing was sometimes swallowed, and sometimes almost viscous in its reluctance to move from one note to another. The musical climaxes seemed torn out of him against his will, adding considerably to the drama.
But the biggest news may have been the company debut of Nicola Luisotti, a fast-rising young conductor whose name the rumor mill is currently linking to the post of music director at the San Francisco Opera. Evaluating him on this performance, an opera house would be lucky to have him. It wasn’t just his passion or his ability to bring out every detail of the score and deal with the singers’ sometimes willful phrasing; it was that he conducted “Tosca” as if it really mattered. Even James Morris, who has sometimes sung Scarpia as a growling caricature, picked up on the excitement and turned in a respectably dark villain.
“Tosca” seemed vital again. And in this venerable, twice-told production, that is news indeed.
Tosca
Metropolitan Opera,
New York: 28 October 2006
Music OMH
Dominic McHugh
Until
the advent of Peter Gelb as the new General Manager, a visit to
the Metropolitan Opera guaranteed traditional production values
and starry casts. His importing of
the ENO-Anthony Minghella production of Madama Butterfly
to open the season caused quite a stir, but the company was back
on safe ground with a revival of their classic Franco Zeffirelli
version of Puccini's Tosca . The
indisposition of Andrea Gruber necessitated her replacement in
the title role with Russian soprano Maria Guleghina, but
whatever the behind-the-scenes troubles, this was a very sturdy,
efficient and often moving performance. Guleghina
disappointed me last time she appeared as Tosca at Covent
Garden, but here she was in her prime. Wearing the stunning
Swarovski jewellery that was made for Maria Callas in 1956 and
hasn't been seen at the Met since, Guleghina emulated Callas'
magnetic stage presence rather convincingly. She interacted well
with both of her co-stars, but more than anything, her singing
was technically secure and emotionally engaged. Making his role
debut as Tosca's lover Cavaradossi, Jose Cura seemed a
bit shaky at times, but he warmed up considerably. His voice
still possesses much of its beauty, and after a nervous first
act – perhaps caused by the late replacement of Gruber – he
portrayed the character with increasing conviction, though I
found his singing of the Act 3 aria a little histrionic. The
final duet with Tosca, though, was electrifying, and Cura's
behaviour at the curtain call was admirably modest,
acknowledging Guleghina's achievement in appearing at such short
notice. The highlight,
though, was Act 2, largely due to the chemistry between the
leading lady and Met favourite James Morris in the role
of Scarpia, Chief of Police. Although his voice is rougher than
it once was, Morris is the consummate actor and can still
produce some thrilling tone when required. He was the ideal
onstage audience to Guleghina's tear-jerking performance of 'Vissi
d'arte', his aggression and desire the perfect foil for her
heartfelt pleas for the life of her lover. Smaller roles
were well-filled, too, with the ever-reliable Paul Plishka
as a characterful Sacristan and Richard Vernon as a
particularly excellent Sciarrone. The Met chorus was also in
good voice in the brief Te Deum in Act 1. The only major
problem of the evening, and the one which reduced the
performance from five stars to four, was the conductor Nicola
Luisotti. Making his Met debut must have been nerve-wracking
for the young Italian, and it showed in his hyperactive arm
gestures and very odd tempi. Because of his lack of control, the
orchestra started almost a bar too early in 'Non la sospiri';
many arias were taken too fast whilst the more descriptive
passages tended towards a leaden pace. On the other hand, there
were some revelatory gestures; the big moments were more
exciting than at Covent Garden in June 2006, and I loved his
observance of the (fast) semiquaver rhythm in the closing bars
of the opera. How will he perform in his double Royal Opera
debut of Il trovatore and Madama Butterfly in
early 2007? Time will tell, but I can't help but wonder if it
isn't too much, too quickly for this young though clearly
talented artist. Nevertheless,
this is one of the most gorgeous opera productions in the world,
thanks to Zeffirelli's realistic settings (which made me regret
that the new Royal Opera production wasn't more impressive). If
you're in New York, it's definitely worth a try.
Opera at the Met: Tosca
P
ro OperaSeptember 2007
Ximena Sepúlveda
[excerpts]
An impeccable presentation of the Puccini opera at the met: in the leading role we see the soprano Andrea Gruber in one of her best efforts, her voice powerful and in control of her artistic powers, giving some original touches to this heroine who refuses to stop being the diva of all times. An interesting note is that she wore the same jewelry as Maria Callas, for whom they were created by Swarovski Glassware in the early 50s. The Empire style costumes by Peter J Hall were executed in pastel colors, contrasting with the reds and blacks normally used in Tosca, but the subtlety of the colors added some warmth to the figure of the diva. Her voice was better than ever, at times rising and obscuring the tenor who sometimes had to struggle to be heard in duets.
The great Scarpia, ruthless and treacherous, who as the antagonist of the work looks elegant and refined, makes this Tosca so vocally powerful. His ‘Te Deum’ is top quality and despite the passing years, James Morris is still in his vocal and physical prime.
The handsome José Cura felt a bit awkward and his voice did not project as well as the other protagonists though it had a melodious tone. He moves very well on stage and performed the arias well, with the traditional moans and sobs that are the delight of tenors that make his a much-sought-after leading man who can easily move his audience. All well-studied and perfect, but perhaps he need a spark of naturalness and improvisation, perhaps even a small mistake from time to time, for if his performance was impeccable, it lacked heart.
In the third act, the tenor aria is well acted and the performance excellent….but so professional that it was not exciting. There was a slight perception of indifference by all the players so that they seemed tired of always doing the same thing, as if it had become routine. It should be added that this was the last Tosca production of the season after countless performances.
Turandot
in Turin
Traspi
Stefano Mola
11 Ottobre 2006
Highest marks go to José Cura. His Calaf is impetuous, at times rabid. He is extraordinary in Nessun dorma, an aria that is often used as a mirror in which tenors admire their skill. But why indeed is it Nessun dorma? Nessun dorma because there is an edict from Turandot, the last gasp of her power. Nessun dorma because she wants to discover the identity of Calaf. In the town, then, there is anything but tranquility and sweetness: instead, there is restlessness, apprehension. And in the same way Calaf is not about sweetness but about power: all'alba vincerò -- at dawn, I will win. Vincerò Turandot: the conquest of a fortress rather than the dream of love. In these notes José Cura never looks in the mirror, never tries to simply show off his voice but instead to use it in the service of his goal of conquest, the source of which is barely controlled anger.
"José Cura is a Calaf without a large voice but one used with great style and one that earned an ovation after the famous aria Nessun dorma." La Stampa, Oct 2006
"Interesting company, this one....with a prince Calaf in the person of José Cura who attacks notes without much color but with has a voice and presence of rare authority...." Lorenzo Arruga, Il Giornale, 16 October 2006
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A pair of Verismo Opera
“Cavalleria rusticana” and “Pagliacci,” the poetry and the tragedy
L'Arena
(excerpts)
Two new productions of the capstones of verismo opera, Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci--directed by Gilbert Deflo with the staging and costumes by William Orlandi - opens the 84th Arena Festival. In the first, the protagonists will be soprano Giovanna Casolla in the role of Santuzza and the tenor José Cura as Turiddu, replacing (as previously announced) the indisposed Vincenzo La Scola.
Cura is one of the few tenors in the world able to cover both the roles of Turiddu in Cavalleria and Canio in Pagliacci. In the work of Mascagni, the Casolla-Cura pairing, which duplicates the pairing of the 2003 Turandot, is unquestionably an event. In addition, the Mexican baritone Carlos Almaguer makes his debut as Alfio with mezzo-soprano Rossana Rinaldi and Paola Fornasari Patti engaged respective in Lola and Turridu's mother, Lucia.
In the work of Leoncavallo, Cure will interpret Canio/the clown, a role much that has become a warhorse for the Argentine tenor. Beside him, as Nedda/Colombina, is the the famous Bulgarian soprano Svetla Vassileva. Baritone Alberto Mastromarino is Tonio/Taddeo while tenor Christian Olivieri will cover the role of Beppe/Harlequin and the baritone Mark Di Felice will play Silvio. Both operas will be conducted by Maestro Lü Jia, with Mark Faelli directing the Arena chorus.
Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci
Between passion and crime, emotion wins out
L'Arena
Cesare Galla
Excerpt
....In this company the matador is naturally José Cura, whether as Turiddu or Pagliaccio. His line of singing is reliable, musical, occasionally suffering a bit in the high notes, but always used with brilliance, according to an interpretation of suffered emotional participation and immediate dramatic evidence.
...The savior of the country is José Cura, who replaced Vicenzo La Scola as a result of his unexpected withdrawal in the second part of the diptych and sang both roles. There were just two predecessors in 84 years who did this: Placido Domingo in 1977 and Lando Bartolini in 1993. But nobody has carried on his shoulders the performances of this verismo pair the way Cura, the Argentine gladiator, did. Valerio Cappelli, Corriere della Sera
José Cura in Verona
La Nacion
After returning from Japan, where he starred in the title role of Andrea Chénier, the Argentine tenor José Cura opened the opera season in the Arena di Verona last Saturday in a truly historic fashion, portraying both Canio and Turiddu in the respective operas of Pagliacci (Leoncavallo) and Cavalleria Rusticana (Mascagni), two masterpieces in the repertoire in which Cura stands among the best in the world and in which he has built the reputation as an outstanding interpreter. He is the first in more than thirty years to sing both roles in the Arena. The precedent goes back to 1975, when Placido Domingo performed the feat at the famous Verona theater. Only two other names belong in the same musical company, no less than Mario del Monaco and Beniamino Gigli. The opportunity arose as a result of Vincenzo la Scola cancelling his participation for health reasons.
Opening Night in Verona: The Ancient Stones are Alive
Der Standard
Bernhard Doppler from Verona
25 June 2006
The Arena works - without expensive staging or the magic of machinery
....The melodramatic effects of the music [in Pagliacci], for which the arena orchestra under Lü Jia deserved extra applause, owes much to modern psychology: the noise of a marriage between partners who have nothing more to say to each other. José Cura was convincing, vocally well disposed, and in his best game mode.
Besides Canio, the Clown, Cura had to substitute on short notice for Vincenzo la Scola as Turiddu. At the same time, the director set a strenuous course [for him] diagonally through the arena. At the beginning, Turiddu appears on the steps, high above all, as if in the mountains, languishing as he sings of Lola. In the finale, as he totters as the clown after the murders he was forced to jostle several spectators to leave the stage. In Giovanna Casolla as Santuzza, Cura had a first rate partner and in Carlos Almaguer as Alfio a fiery opponent.
José Cura Dominates
The Opera Critic
Silvia Luraghi
Mascagni: Cavalleria
Rusticana
Leoncavallo: Pagliacci
Arena di Verona
24 June 2006
(excerpts)
The Arena di Verona opened its 84th summer season with a new Gilbert Deflo production of the popular double bill Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci.
Deflo staged the two operas in the same setting, intending to show that the events took place in the same town. Indeed, one cannot really speak of a town, since the sets were made up of only a couple of Greek columns and a large olive tree; the back entrance of the stage (a Roman arch of the arena) also functioned as the entrance of the church in Cavalleria, and mamma Lucia's saloon was represented by a group of chairs under the olive tree, which were brought in by extras before Turiddu's aria.
Beside the large space of the stage, the director also used other space available in the arena: so Turiddu had to run up to the top of the high steps in the background after singing the initial Siciliana, part of the Easter procession came to the stage crossing the orchestra, as did Canio's clowns company at the beginning of Pagliacci; at the end, after Tonio uttered the final phrase "La commedia è finita!" Canio ran away through the orchestra corridor, bumping into a couple of audience members who were trying to leave the place.
On the vocal side, the performance was dominated by José Cura, who was initially scheduled only for Pagliacci, but then stepped in for Vincenzo La Scola, who was ill, in Cavalleria as well. Cura has what one can call an 'arena-voice': sizable, clearly distinguishable; he has sung many times on this extra-large stage and knows how to do it most convincingly....
...
The Arena was almost sold out (only some parts of numbered step seats remained empty), and the forecast thunderstorm which should have started at midnight fortunately did not take place. In the end the performance was successful, and audience members left visibly satisfied.
Cavalleria rusticana
Il Giornale della Musica
Arena di Verona
June 26, 2006
Fabio Zannoni
From up above, in a sort of open space at the centre of the steps, the amphitheatre echoes with the Siciliana of Cavalleria Rusticana, sung by Turiddu. The scene has only a large olive tree and the remains of ancient columns. With only the bare essentials used for the stage design, echoes of the ancient Greek tragedy are reflected in the arena. The direction maintains the intimacy and the sense of solitude of the characters in Cavalleria, although with due concessions made to the spectacular nature of the arena; the dimensions and the settings for small villages are here spaces for large crowds: such is the procession, which is in two pieces, one coming from the stalls. And the small group of actors in Pagliacci becomes that of a large circus. The arena has the appearance of a large town square: two colourful carts and cables illuminated as if for a town fete, with dwarfs, ballerinas, and acrobats coming from all over the place with nice synchronized movements tastefully managed using great theatrical sense - the direction here is very careful not to invade every moment of the opera with their antics. Lü Jia's conducting leans towards a careful definition of balanced symphonic orchestral colour, with an exact choice of tempos, and a firm hold even during choruses and group moments on the huge stage of the arena. As for the singers, José Cura (especially in Pagliacci) was occasionally in trouble with the high notes, although his interpretation was very effective. Casolla played a Santuzza of vibrant dramatic colour; Vassileva played a Nedda with variety and theatrical self-assurance. The arena was sold out with a public, at times loud and unruly, that provided spontaneous applause and ovations at the end.
Pietro Mascagni e Ruggero Leoncavallo
Verona - Arena: Cavalleria rusticana - Pagliacci
OperaClick
Alessandro Cammarano
Without question, the hero of the evening was José Cura, starring in the double role of Turiddu and Canio. A treatise could be written on the Argentine tenor’s unorthodox vocal technique and lack of homogeneity of his timbre, but on this evening, his voice shone with power and was notable for long-held high notes. And if we add two intense and first rate interpretations, especially in Canio, his stage presence and wise portrayal, all that is left for us to say is ‘Bravo Cura!”
CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA /
PAGLIACCI
Das Opernglas
W. Kutzschbach
Translated by Dana
After the sudden withdrawal of Vincenzo La Scola, José Cura took over the role of Turiddu in addition to that of Canio. Thus the common characteristics of both main tenor parts and the unity of staging created a situation which Cura, under the direction of [Gilbert] Deflos, used for two captivating and intelligent creations with distinct drama and vigour. His Turiddu here was a less macho, more immature mummy's boy, uncertain and unhappy as only a man standing between two women can be. Canio could perhaps be sung "more beautifully," but scarcely with greater intensity and metallic shine: explosively brilliant and confident high notes distinguished the apparently endless “A ventitrè ore,” while in “Recitar!” and "No, Pagliaccio non son" the darkly-colored, baritonal middle voice was shown to great advantage. The other performers paled in comparison to Cura’s achievements.
Turandot in Zurich
Musikalische Leitung
Inszenierung
Ausstattung
Lichtgestaltung
Choreinstudierung
Turandot
Liù
Calaf
Timur
Ping
Pang
Pong
Altoum
Mandarin
Alan Gilbert
Giancarlo del Monaco
Peter Sykora
Hans-Rudolf Kunz
Jürg Hämmerli
Paoletta Marrocu*
Elena Mosuc*
José Cura
Pavel Daniluk*
Gabriel Bermúdez*
Andreas Winkler*
Boguslaw Bidzinski*
Miroslav Christoff*
Valeriy Murga*
*Rollendebüt
Turandot
Opera Now
September/October 2006
Francis Muzzu
“Impeccable Vocals”
In these pages, I once commented that Paoletta Marrocu’s career was moving at such an extraordinary pace that I feared she might end up singing Turandot at the Met, my worry being about her vocal deterioration. Imagine my alarm when I saw that she was indeed scheduled to perform the role, though this was tempered by the fact that the Zurich Opernhaus is about a third of the size of the Met.
In the event she scored a considerable triumph. The voice is ample and focused and filled this house with ease. The top notes are steady, the phrasing exemplary, her attack thrilling, and she looks gorgeous too. One cavil is her surprisingly mushy diction. Marrocu has personal and vocal charisma, and dominates any stage upon which she appears. The grain of the voice is womanlier than we often hear; Marrocu is a welcome antidote to some of the screechers we currently endure in this role. As far as I can see she has no plans to sing the role again thus far. In a world of selfish cheap thrills this is a shame as she has much to contribute as Turandot, but more altruistically I hope she doesn’t abuse her glamorous spinto soprano and enjoys vocal longevity. Maybe it’s a role for the right house at the right time.
José Cura’s Calaf in many ways matched her. I had expected a generous and committed physical performance; I hadn’t anticipated an impeccable vocal one too. Cura can be an annoyingly wayward singer at times, but obviously found this production congenial and was on best behaviour. A well-nigh perfect ‘Nessun dorma’ capped an exciting interpretation that played well to Cura’s ebullient Action Man strengths.
For more excitements we could look to the orchestra and chorus. Alan Gilbert’s conducting didn’t come up with any great surprises, but was confident, secure and well-paced. He marshaled his forces with aplomb. The chorus matched this achievement and contributed thrillingly.
Less positive was Elena Mosuc’s Liu, shallow of tone and unmelting at the top. Unflatteringly costumed, she failed to pull at the heartstrings, as did Pavel Daniluk’s sturdily but uninterestingly vocalized and performed Timur. Ping lived up to his name; Pang and Pong alas to the latter’s. What annoying characters they can be!
Maybe Giancarlo del Monaco just didn’t pour as much directorial enthusiasm into these roles. The staging was straightforward throw-the-budget-at-the-stage, and looked magnificent if slightly squashed into the space. Del Monaco started the evening with Calaf slithering down a rope and dropping into the subterranean oriental world as though entering a virtual reality game. I found the idea somewhat trite, but upon reflection it framed the story effective and made sense of the constant stream of unsuccessful suitors and the riddles that Turandot sets. As a Konzept it didn’t intrude until the end, when Turandot succumbed to Calaf, the chorus reappeared in contemporary clothes, modern Shanghai appeared in the background, and our leading couple settled down to dinner served by three waiters, yes Ping, Pang and Pong. Calaf has won the game in every sense, the new order has overtaken the old, and he and Turandot settle to enjoy the spoils of his success. On the whole an interesting and enjoyable new production, and an eminently revivable one.
Vox spectatricis
10. 04. 2006 / Chantal Steiner
(excerpts)
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Yesterday’s
premiere of Puccini’s ‘Turandot’ ended with frenetic, unanimous
applause. Why was I the only one not so enthused?
Surely it is because I do not like this work. I cannot make anything of this ‘fairy tale’ of the ice-cold princess who gives unknown princes a three-part riddle, virtually impossible to solve, out of fear of reliving what happened to her ancestor who had been kidnapped (by an unknown prince). As price for their failures, the princes are beheaded. One foreign prince, however, manages to solve the riddles. The princess, who is also the prize given to whoever answers correctly, vehemently resists him. He, in his absolute arrogance, challenges the princess to one more mystery: if she can learn his name by dawn, he will offer his life willingly. That he thereby puts Liù, the servant girl who loves him, and his father in danger seems to be an equitable trade (or perhaps in his desire he does not think it will go so far). Liù chooses death rather than betray the man she loves. Calaf at first makes the princess responsible for the death, then immediately forgets both his father and Liù as he and the princess both go on to a Happy Ending. To me, this is an intolerable tale! I should add that the eastern sounds (or what Puccini regarded as such) do not appeal to me even when played to perfection. Only the “European” sounds please me, and thus “Non piangere, Liù” is for me the most beautiful piece in the opera.
The orchestra of the Zurich Opera played under Alan Gilbert with its usual flare and followed the intentions of the conductor with bravura. It remains questionable, however, whether an opera such as “Turandot” works is such an intimate house as Zurich, as its volume nearly blows out the walls.
Commendable was the homogeneous trio of Ping, Pang and Pong, sung by Gabriel Bermudez (Ping), Andreas Winkler (Pang) and Boguslaw Bidzinksi (Pong), though above all the melodious baritone of Gabriel Buermudez drew attention.
Although I do not usually like Pavel Daniluks interpretations (except in Russian repertoire) because he sings, to my ears, with too nasal a sound, it must be said that he sang a technically flawless Timur.
The Liù of Elana Mosuc was an outstanding achievement. If there was some unsteadiness heard it was probably due to the evening being the premiere, but she was able to sing the role in such a touching way that an audience member told her frankly, “you so touched my soul that I almost began to cry.” It is exactly this sensitivity that makes me so constantly enthusiastic about this singer. Her warm, soft soprano was clear and bell-like in the high notes. Ms Mosuc embodied a lovely, heart-moving, thrilling Liù that left no one unaffected.
Outstanding as well was the Calaf of José Cura. This formative “Mätzchen” yielded a musically flawless interpretation. Certainly, one could say that the voice slips now and then into the throat and that somewhat more attention should be given to the vowel placement (particularly in “Nessun dorma”), but at this time no other tenor can so easily master this role. The bronze, baritonal voice coloring, paired with an incredible expressiveness and vocal strength and, when necessary, with softness, inspired storms of enthusiasm. The nonchalance in his acting and the ease with which he took the high notes made him the winner of the evening.
I cannot understand, however, what induced the audience to enthusiasm over Paoletta Marrocus’s portrayal. Admittedly, the woman looks good and is - like Cura - a stage animal. Nevertheless, in my opinion to sing out loudly is simply not enough.
The smaller roles (Altoum: Miroslav Christoff; Mandarin: Valer Murga) were portrayed, as always, adequately.
Giancarlo del Monaco created this fairy tale as a sort of time travel (“Indiana Jones in the search for Gluck”) play. With the fascinating scenery of Peter Sykora, Calaf is thrown back into ancient times.
Obviously transferred by a time machine in the opening, he lies at first in the center of the stage while the choir rises from below. Whether it is necessary to equip Calaf with sun glasses or a lit cigarette remains debatable—strangely enough, the “principe ignoto” is in leather; he reminded me a bit of the “rebel” James Dean. Certainly there are new ideas, such as Calaf solving the mystery of the riddles by “googling” on his laptop. In contrast to his comrades-in-arms, he had a simple advantage: since he came from the future, he was able to call the libretto of “Turandot” up on the Internet and get the answers.
At the conclusion, when Turandot bends herself to love, Calaf loosens her Chinese robes and Turandot is shown in a breath-taking red evening gown. They seal their love solemnly by going to eat at at 3-star restaurant (with Ping, Pang, and Pong as waiters), while the choir in contemporary dress rise from the depths and the background picture changes to that of the skyline of Hong Kong (Shanghai?)—it can hardly be Peking, since, as far as I know, you can not see such water there. The “civilized” world has defeated the ancient one….
Result: a tremendous public success—at least for those who like the work.
The Play of a Play in a Play
Zurichsee-Zeitung
Werner Pfister
11. 04. 2006
Much expense spent on the staging and great applause at the final curtain: the life-threatening play in which a princess murders her suitors turns out, in the end, to be only farce.
If to a piece an opera director can bring nothing genuine, there still exists a way to produce the piece as a dream—so recently at the Zurich Opera House with “La Favorita.” Giancarlo del Monaco now selects another—with just as much commitment—way. He produces Puccini’s “Turandot” as a play within a play.
The audience was left confused and perhaps even nonplussed when Calaf, supposedly inflamed with love, approaches the riddle scene—one that is well known to concerns issues of life and death—with such nonchalance that he smokes a cigarette; it seems he dislikes the delay. He wants Turandot to ask him the three riddles. He is sure to be an easy winner. He unfolds a laptop computer (the audience laughs in amusement) and enters the mysterious questions into it: Google knows everything. In the end, the dark scenery of ancient China dissolves into the modern world: in the background an urban center with skyscrapers becomes visible. Turandot and Calaf sit down at a table covered with a white cloth and toasts with champagne—a private celebration, if you will.
Actually, it should have been possible to anticipate everything. Calaf appears in the beginning in sunglasses in the embodiment of the Latin lover and heartbreaker who has apparently gotten lost in the fairy tale China of mythology. Much expensive machinery is operated, the sumptuous costumes are Chinese-inspired, and the actors—up to the entrance of a circus dwarf as executioner—are offered with typical Chinese presentation to please the eye.
Quite unencumbered by tradition in the Ping-Pang-Pong scene: instead of conventional opera gestures the characters use Chinese shadow-boxing moves that have an edge of humor to them, running contrary to the melancholy seriousness of their homesickness song at the beginning of Act II. Similar breaks in mood arise as a result of the staging: walls go up, nothing on them, the choir stands on rows in the stance of spectators in an arena, and all this takes place in a sparse jade setting, perhaps even a dungeon.
In the program is a quote out of Sigmund Freud’s treatise “The Taboo of the Virgin” about male envy resulting in “hostility toward men by embittered women.” It is through the depth of this psychological theme that Turandot, in spite of its Chinese fairy-tale motive, is connected with contemporary times. And, one would want to argue, it offers her as contemporary character to those of the same period, Elektra, Lulu, or Salome. Yet on the stage, nothing of this appears. It is a stretch…..
Paoletta Marrocu fights as Turandot for the high notes that come painfully and fights for the low notes which have too much vibrato. These flaws lessen her impact so it becomes too easy for José Cura as Calaf to dominate the stage. He takes advantage of it, as he sings “Nessun dorma” while lying outstretched on his back. Although his darkly shaded tenor occasionally lives in a wild a marriage with the song phrases, he is convincing as an actor and his thrilling, daredevil approach. He has class.
Elana Mosuc offers an attractive Liù, her singing wonderfully phrased but stingily directed. Pavel Daniluk sings old Timur with immense bass ones and Gabriel Bermúdez, Andreas Winkler and Boguslaw Bidzinski are convincing as a Ping, Pang and Pong. The Zurich Opera chorus (and the additional choir and youth choir), directed by Jürg Hämmerli deserves great praise.
Conductor Alan Gilbert conducted with notable care for the score. His power, but never garish gave the music not only luster but also poetry, and the orchestra of the Zurich Opera played with wholehearted instrumental opulence. Much applause in the end, with storms of enthusiasm for everything - the audience liked the performance very much.
Turandot in Zurich
Ópera Actual
Hans Uli von Erlack
Conductor.: Alan Gilbert.
Director.: Giancarlo del Monaco.
Singers: Paoletta Marrocu (Turandot), Pavel Daniluk (Timur), José Cura (Calaf), Elena Mosuc (Liù), Gabriel Bermúdez (Ping).
9 de Abril de 2006
The
first performance [in Zurich] of this gigantic opera was a triumph
for more than one reason. The first was the music, which the young
North American Alan Gilbert conducted in all its flamboyance and all
its refinement, from those passages which affect us most emotionally
to those that radiate pomposity and spectacle, all with proper tempi
and shading. The second reason was named José Cura. His imposing
presence made us think the opera should have been called Calaf,
but much of his macho self-approval can be easily pardoned thanks to
the charisma that characterizes this artist and the almost insulting
brightness of his vocal projection. Less excusable was his tendency
to emphasize pronunciation, more appropriate for a performance in a
sport stadium. The third reason’s name is Elena Mosuc, touching as
Liù though not because of the power of her voice, since that was
found in the basso Pavel Daniluk singing the role of Timur. The
final source of satisfaction was the choir, numerous and almost
always on stage, badly dressed and condemned to immobility but
nevertheless characterized by a big force and precision.
Paoletta Marrocu, a specialist in the Puccini repertoire, was debuting in the role of the Princess. In her first entrance we got the impression that her voice was lacking sufficient heroism or dramatic content but as soon as she stepped down the stairs her vocal presence became more distinctive, although her diction was not more comprehensible. Of the three ministers, the Ping of Gabriel Bermúdez excelled with his good baritone voice and in his stage virtuosity.
In his stage direction Giancarlo del Monaco wanted to combine the traditional stage vision of Turandot with the modernity of the West. When Calaf, in jeans and leather jacket, talks with the emperor while continuing to smoke or answers Turandot´s questions with the help of a laptop--surely he is consulting Google!--he displays western arrogance in opposition to the traditional ways of the Far East. And the final scene continues the theme: Turandot removes her oriental gown to appear in a cocktail dress and drinks champagne with her conqueror against the background of the night lights of modern Shanghai: the western consumer culture has triumphed over the ancestral traditions.
In fact, the production is shared by Shanghai Opera House and the luxurious wardrobe of the protagonists has been created in China.
Turandot, or the Defeat of a Thousand-Year-Old
Civilization
Claudio Poloni
ConcertoNet
April 2006
A frequent visitor to the Zurich stage, José Cura made a strong impression as Calaf. In fine form, the Argentinian tenor sang with dark and vigorous tones and [easily] launched the high notes, even singing Nessun dorma lying on his back! In contrast to other recent appearances here, he showed scrupulous attention to style and score. And he had no problem playing the macho lover required by the staging!
Last Updated: Sunday, April 01, 2012
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