HGO: 1886 Don Carlos (plus 1867 extracts) performed in Houston for first time in French. Patrick Summers. John Caird.15.4.12.

In 1985 DGG released first ever commercial Don Carlos – French 1886 version conducted by Claudio Abbado, starring Placido Domingo among a mostly Italian cast. Appendix includes ballet plus five other Paris extracts (1866) Verdi soon removed and did not replace. Most popular option recently should any of this get inserted – even if only following 1866 - Carlos’s angry declamation and Carlos-Philippe duet together following death of Posa appears as only one among above-mentioned extracts.

At the time the Abbado got released, specialized press mentioned 1972 BBC concert rendition (now on four Opera Rara discs – 2006 release) of the complete 1866 version (erroneously labeled 1867 for year of Paris world premiere). In-between we’ve had Pappano’s Paris recording /dvd (very preferable not only for its being in French to recent Pappano at Convent Garden) – though this Don Carlos edition-wise a mishmash.

At least the Pappano did not claim near as much as has Houston Grand Opera for what they just put on at the Wortham. Neither did Welsh National Opera, when John Caird’s production first opened there. Rodney Milnes, in Opera (U.K.) credits it as having been the 1886 revision with restoration of Paris extracts implanted back in (excluding the ballet) including Carlos-Philippe duet ”cannibalized for the Requiem” (Milnes). This is curious; as of 1867 neither any requiem was in the works, involving Verdi, nor had impetus for one arisen yet. Recall of Milnes’s comment almost compelled me - Cai Mingbo, fine assistant at founding this blog, can testify - to input some error here; having Julian Budden on hand then fortuitously intervened.

As recently as 2005, Milnes esteemed both getting Don Carlos performed in French, and circumspectly how (implied) ‘Paris extracts’ got restored as each “a heroic act;” perhaps so. Houston Grand Opera has claimed to have taken things further. ‘Original’ as in ‘original version’ shows up eight times in Houston Chronicle preview of Don Carlos, then ‘authentic’ twice. Had this been twenty-plus years ago, a near fully synonymous claim could still be responsibly made for much of what transpired here. Restoring the 1866 or 1867 edition might then have been reckoned venture arcane or recondite, not to mention procuring corresponding orchestral parts, expense involved. It however this past decade is fait accompli, just not as of yet in Houston, Texas. What got played here instead was entirely 1886 - plus (almost) four interpolations from 1866-67,

‘Trims’ occurred outside of what “we knew Verdi wanted to take out” – Summers adding to how Verdi might “wield the knife”, despite much sanctimonious espousal of Verdi’s wishes. One can surmise the 1886 Don Carlo might only be based upon a ‘rushed’ Italian translation. Perhaps the Italian did get rushed, but what then have we had here? The music was clearly 1886, lest anybody one day become incredulous at true ‘original version’ that before chronologically John Matheson, Ingo Metzmacher, Bertrand de Billy, and Maurizio Benini have conducted - latter three at major European houses – and with it in French.. De Billy (Vienna) is available on both compact disc and dvd. Revisions from the ‘original’ French, the historical record asserts, became laborious between Verdi and surviving French librettists (a temporarily offended Camille du Locle, then as auxiliary, Charles Nuitter). Du Locle and Joseph Mery were the original librettists.

Heavy cuts got taken to banda scored music during the auto-da-fe, alongside staging-wise (as even Houston Press claims) selling short grandeur of both music and spectacle therein. No version, as occurred here, authorizes Act Three to begin with Carlos’s ‘”A Minuit” (“E mezzanotte” - recitative). 1884 haunting orchestral prelude makes sole alternative to exchange-of-veils duet for female leads to open Act Three.

Cut of ‘magical’ twenty-plus seconds with which to conclude “Des quels transports” (duet) remains inscrutable. Youtube snippet on HGO’s website early made me aware of this, thus it had me apprehend dastardly cut of “L’heure fatale est sonnee” (just past Thibault’s interjections at Fontainebleau about fateful shift in plans), then of ‘O prodige” from Act Two duet; fortunately my fears were unfounded. Quasi-Gounod high wind scoring at Fontainebleau ‘magical’ to Budden might inhibit Summers – music out of sync with lofty 1886 passages or anachronistic with Verdi’s ‘Wagnerian aspirations.’ Verdi, perhaps benightedly, always declined to cut any of this passage himself.

Verdi’s ‘Wagnerisms’ have become lofty considerations at one local corner of the blogosphere. Oddly enough, doing the 1866 or 1867 version straight (latter without Carlos-Philippe duet), with freedom to cut all the ballet, might most comfortably fit Summers’s more natural predilections. Not however with Verdi’s aspirations to Wagnerian ideals might then such a decision adequately take to Verdi’s loftier instincts, mind you, his desire to compose like Richard Wagner. Even in mind of many later improvements to have transpired, case now fully suffices for doing, even unabridged, the flexible, frequently stylistically consistent original version.

John Caird’s production, heavily set (Johan Engels) with pervasive Cross motif, is glibly noir, second tier melodramatic. Neon magenta lit crosses adorn bleachers on both sides on monotonous unit design for closing scenes. Some lassitude or malaise fills space where any physical action seems very unlikely. Previn’s “Brief Vacation” (2009 - Caird’s HGO debut) was much easier for him than has been Don Carlos.

Interaction between characters, their ability, inability to connect, looked stiff. Eye contact between lovers at Fontainebleau was weak. Situating Carlos and Elisabeth at opposite corners of outspread heavy sheet indecisively set stage for their Act Two duet Carlos outstretching his hands to compel Elisabeth near turned haunting portion of final rendezvous completely banal.. Lighting (Nigel Livings) was equally off, i.e. spectral night opening Act Two gardens (with web shadowing of obsessive Cross design).

With benign consequences certainly unlikely on one occasion, violence on stage was something, with no trace of irony to anything, to seemingly occur at random, i.e. how could Rodrigue in Act Two get away with starting to turn brief altercation with Philippe physical? Carlos being thrown to stage floor by guards to open the prison scene was gratuitous, all off in intonation with simple gravitas with which Verdi opens this scene. Intimations of torture, tight confinement of inmates towards stage rear began to resemble something lifted from Monty Python - as did quasi-KKK decked Inquisitor to enter all the way on stage to run Rodrigue through, then to very similarly dispatch Carlos at the very end – in case we missed how previous impaling got carried out.

Certainly risible was the major confrontation during the auto-da-fe scene Contemporarily decked out guards had their machine guns trained, for Carlos to then, not apprehended, armed with just one long sword, challenge the King. Even with Carlos having just turned over his weapon, these guards still then rush off, leaving madman free behind. (Spirit of) Charles V, open ugly sarcophagus thereof both blocking access to stage rear at the end contradicted more than Carlos being slain itself (from which some escape could still perhaps occur) final pronouncement by the mysterious friar. Quick procession of monks across the footlights to help start Act Two also looked awkward.

Rampant emotionalism further emphasized a pervasive lack of irony and lack of trust for one’s audience. Thoroughly diminished was tone to illuminate themes explored here - with any subtle sense of what complexity is involved. Anybody having attended Fidelio last fall could not have honestly received much of this Don Carlos well.

Brandon Jovanovich made his role debut as Don Carlos. Positive before here as Turiddu, in Austin as Sergei (Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk – Texas premiere), and as Boris in Kat’a Kabanova in Chicago, the awkwardness of Verdi’s writing and anonymous character of the staging especially affecting his part effaced him here. French diction sounded mildly coagulated, tone often curdled in negotiating everything. A handsome, affable presence on stage, even while matters improved vocally for him as the evening wore on, ultimately proved less than sufficiently decisive. This engagement resembled more (temporarily) a miscasting than it did any worrisome sign of vocal decline.

Tamara Wilson returned here for her second major Verdi role; her Ballo Amelia several seasons back proved very heavy sailing. Her sympathetic countenance was pleasant – if as though a wallflower perhaps. Up though until the last two acts, musical results proved tenuous. Farewell to Countess of Aremberg emerged all beneath pitch. Tremulous passsaggio, beneath freely floating top was evident, habits also to reach low notes from above and to swallow consonants. Wilson’s gift for lyric Verdi became clear during Act Four, then for securely spun out Act Five aria, with fine expressive legato.

Christine Goeke, to qualified success, made her role debut as Eboli. Veil Song sounded unnaturally heavy, dark, and sour with intonation. She then developed into an incisive tigress of an Eboli for trios in Act Three, and then blended well with Wilson for rarely sung “J’ai tout compris” in Act Four. With much savvy and ringing top Goeke robustly commanded the stage for “O don fatal.” Loading the stage with ladies-in-waiting of considerable girth for her opening scene did not favorably complement having both Wilson and Goeke on stage together moments later.

Two looking most committed to this production, partly from having sung this at Cardiff in 2005 were Scott Hendricks and Andrea Silvestrelli. They also proved the musically and arguably histrionically the most lacking. Hendricks offered mild hope early on he might tone down playing Rodrigue too proletariat. Act Two romance emerged unattractively dry, but tastefully. Much hectoring, forcing then held sway during long duologue with Philippe. Rude manhandling of Eboli made Hendricks, with his costuming, resemble having just walked on off set design for Il Tabarro. Prison scene, especially an overacted “O Carlos, ecoute” emerged graceless, hectored, non legato.

Silvestrelli made a bludgeoning, quite unmitigated ruffian of a Philippe, frequently out of tune. His voice carries very well, but proved inflexible handling sixteenths admonishing Flemish deputies during the auto-da-fe. Raising jewelry box to close “Elle ne m’aime pas”, then to shove it in Elisabeth’s face to begin their confrontation together looked sophomoric; climax out of inevitable insult got derailed. Motivation to deeply probe the king’s frustrations though remained clear.

Rhetorically overpowering Silvestrelli was the Grand Inquisitor of, at seventy, Samuel Ramey, uniquely revealing sterling command of the stage plus alacritous sense of where the king’s vulnerabilities, curiosities, close ties lie. Ramey can be seen from La Scala (1993), holding forth there very authoritatively as Philippe (as with here eight years later) – with Silvestrelli very responsibly cast as the Friar. Ramey’s voice and ever unflinching countenance here emerged steady, firmly implacable. Mark Diamond (Forester), Boris Dyakov (De Lerma), plus a vivacious Lauren Snouffer as Tebaldo stood up to very eloquently represent Houston Opera Studio, plus longstanding HOS alumnus in an ever sonorous Oren Gradus (Friar).

When Patrick Summers conducted Don Carlo here eleven years ago, his stick technique looked tentative, but he was more circumspect for task at hand then. Emilio Sagi’s production provided him wholesome perspectival depth, fine illusion of grandeur, if abstractly, to much better couch or envelope what emanated from the orchestra pit plus all around than, for instance, something halfway resembling Broadway could do so. Sense of continuity throughout was fine, but also tendency to rush through passages needing more shape or nuance - to avoid brash sounding brass during Veil Song ritornelli, then for soloists to expand out on their lines (during “Si l’on repand encore” refrain to Elisabeth’s last aria - very strictly calibrated its light barcarolle accompaniment through its reprise). Very cool streamlining of royal couple’s entrance at San Just significantly undercut grandeur obvious there. Calibration between pit and stage notably slipped during getting slightly rushed the Third Act Flemish deputies’ concertato.

Solo oboes, trumpets sounded unfocussed; Barrett Sills’ cello solo starting Act Four was eloquent. Summers showed some lyrical ear for color within the Act Two duet - partly missing subtle change in tinta for ‘O prodige’ over gilding so much - approach that also dragged “J’ai tout compris” (Act Four Elisabeth-Eboli duet). Tone overall elsewhere started to sound anemic; choral work was less than up to expected ensemble standards (from Richard Bado). Summers proved quite adept though in achieving proper scale through most of Act Four Some affinity for Don Carlos also became evident during ‘Fontainebleau’ – also toward building fine atmosphere with which to open next scene at San Just. Pervasive sense of grandeur still seemed lacking from equation overall.

In order to de-cannibalize portions of Don Carlos, we should next assign George Romero to stage this. The ‘smoked’ (not quite fully immolated) heretics could walk off the pyre, then later stalk their persecutors toward the end of Act Four. Plot outcome might change somewhat even as might tempt Peter Konwitschny, to frighten traditionalists more, but they lost faith in him a long time ago anyway. Some other blogger previewing our production got caught up with discussing self-immolations, their making a comeback - as inspired by many Tibetans protesting oppression abroad. Some of the socio-political message of Don Carlos has certainly remained timeless until now, just as has that of Beethoven’s Fidelio. For sole unabridged ‘original’ Don Carlos on dvd, the De Billy/Konwtischny from Vienna (2004 - Arthaus), starring Ramon Vargas (Don Carlo – HGO 2001), staging included, comes highly recommend.

Met in HD: Manon (Massenet) - in new chilly updated perspective. Anna Netrebko. Fabio Luisi. Laurent Pelly. 07.4.12

Wrapping up Trebs trilogy of reviews for 2011-2012 has appeared a new Laurent Pelly production of Massenet’s Manon at the Met. Anna Netrebko may be familiar as Manon to dvd collectors from Berlin in production by Vincent Paterson, in which Manon in 1950’s milieu - all as though adopting starring role in her own story before cameras - or some kind of fantasy along these lines. Concept sounds Fellini-esque, but setting up plush atmosphere much its own likely suiting Jules Massenet’s music very well.

That a drier approach can work, can be applied with a frequently deft touch, demonstrates itself very well, in still one of David McVicar’s best productions, filmed in Barcelona (also seen in Houston in 2003, starring Elisabeth Futral) The new Pelly production, while competent, fell short of communicating such ability, beyond animated interaction especially among lesser personae – Guillot, Lescaut, de Bretigny, three Andrews or Lennon sister prototypes – Poussette, Javotte, Rosette. (Das Rheingold predates Manon by about twenty years).

Anna Netrebko both looks and sounds slightly heavier now than when she got filmed as Anna Bolena from Vienna a year ago. The voice shows a little wear and tear from further onslaught of Anna Bolena runs at the Met and run as Donna Anna in Milan. The promise of Netrebko delving deeper into heavier repertoire seemingly looms before us – Lohengrin Elsa for Dresden in 2015 and Norma at Convent Garden soon thereafter.

Were not Anna Bolena and Donn’Anna heavy enough? Fortunately doing these parts did not quite derail Netrebko’s return to lighter fare with Manon. Mostly to sensitive ears would it have been clear what toll previous forays this season have taken. Anna is certainly not quite long in the tooth for singing or playing the part of Manon, albeit that her having developed rounder figure physically might have made it seem quite so.
Diction and tone tended to a certain prevailing thickness, but handling of most acuti free, open and light (apart from two or several approached slightly from below).

For opening scene Netrebko played just mildly distraught (especially at point of ‘Voyons, Manon – sad song soon before she meets a just entering Des Grieux), but also with eyes fully open for bewildering world – looking thus far as though all an intimidating military fortress – at Amiens - to have now encompassed her. Opening ‘get-to-know-Manon’ aria, though slightly thick sounding, she characterized well. Farewell to table during Act Two was hauntingly poignant, but in midst of mildly disconcertingly losing engagement with Des Grieux before this scene wrapped up. Netrebko then entered the Cours-la-Reine in sumptuous dress, looking, sounding very well the Russian empress as Manon with, affecting her Gavotte, particular coolness, imperious manner to match; perhaps even Catherine the Great once entertained similar fantasies.

Vulgarly carried out seduction scene at St. Sulpice - more on this momentarily – introduced an arch, quasi-Straussian accent into this, in effect catching one off-guard. Musical and dramatic confidence however returned for final two scenes – at casino with singing and acting in grand style, then engrossing involvement for the final scene. For Netrebko in lighter voice and persona we have from five years ago the DGG Berlin dvd.

Piotr Beczala made an ever ardent, vocally fulsome Des Grieux, matching Netrebko in strength for climactic meeting places during the gambling casino scene. Slavic tone, diction tended to enhance considerable languor vocally, tonally, especially standing next to Netrebko. Engagement with recitative, spoken dialogue was very convincing, as was a sung on the breath ‘La Reve’ during Act Two. Beczala later negated positive effect of singing softly, deftly shaping start to ‘Ah fuyez, douce image” by unpleasant forcing toward projecting full-out by conclusion thereof. Vittorio Grigolo in London opposite Netrebko there got cited too for, alongside his ardent, handsome demeanor, some most forceful vocalism there too. Recovery for seduction scene, quite overheated passion encompassing it, was nearly complete, heartfelt engagement for final scene also.

Gravitas for first half of the St. Sulpice scene, for expressing concern right before (and then moral opprobrium later) David Pittsinger as Comte Des Grieux supplied in full, with fine tonal roundness, depth, fine acting, and convincing diction. Especially in regards to Des Grieux fils (Beczala), his part in all this, Pittsinger for a spell provided fine relief from the detached feel, distancing chill of Laurent Pelly’s production.

Even with some Slavic ripeness to match two others here, Paulo Szot made a nimble, savvy case vocally, dramatically for the ever shrewd, enterprising Lescaut. Bradley Garvin brought fine voice, tall confident charm, swagger to the mostly thankless role of de Bretigny. Christophe Mortagne, also Guillot at Convent Garden two years ago, had the crusty look, though with fine diction, vocal gruffness to unveil potential menace as Guillot. It must be for the wealth and riches of this dandy that he can offer, promise ladies anywhere nearby that any might ever come close. Mortagne’s looked, sounded slightly short on ability to close the sale, so to speak. Thoroughly vivacious charm of the ladies’ trio (Anne-Carolyn Bird, Jennifer Black, Ginger Costa-Jackson) helped relieve the dreary look of much about, including that of a very droll Guillot. (The recently deceased Philip Langridge had originally been planned upon to sing Guillot for Royal Opera),

One London critic expressed wariness as to how the wider Met stage might fit Pelly’s production. Much sensation of void, as limned by chain-link fence, multiple ramps for the Cours-la-Reine flattened out, with sets by Chantal Thomas, what charm suggested thereof. Hotel de la Transylvanie looked especially wonky, when it emptied of all people except for several leads, making it obvious how much its shell construction resembled, its dull green painted walls, the basement of a research lab building. A large round ball, perched along rear crossing balcony put one in mind of NBA playoffs only weeks ahead.

Alternating ramps, (metal) stairwells, imposing walls perhaps provided some form of symbolism – cluttered to clotted psyches of the corrupt demi-monde with action here having been updated to time Manon was composed and/or soon thereafter. Seeing the apartment for Act Two as cramped compartment up several metallic staircases proved quite disorienting. Gray, streetlight illuminated Le Havre for the final scene suggested to one critic at Convent Garden a pulling down of any veil of rose or pink coloring to have illusively gilded earlier scenes. I somehow missed noticing any similar gilding to have transpired at the Met. Still, the lighting (Joel Adan) proved evocative for Le Havre - of more searing tragedy, as acted out at the Met, than Massenet may have reckoned.

Psychological metaphor of this Manon finds a parallel in Pelly’s production of Debussy’s Pelleas et Melisande. Using a rotating stage, metaphor employed for this Pelleas saturated thereof already worked more fluidly therein than for Manon. More comedy likely informed the Convent Garden stage, within its moderately more intimate space. Some good comedic touches fortunately still surfaced at the Met.

If nothing else, Massenet’s music provides epicurean cover for what seedy aspects of the story and of what world gets portrayed this way. Stripping action, feel of this piece of its well-rounded corners, of luxuriating within comes with its risks. Updating the action can further help infuse this music of an at least fleeting nostalgia for perhaps better world left behind, while taking care not to overly sentimentalize action or scenario involved. Numerous ways exist to expose the hollowness at the core of engaging in such nostalgia – and certainly hinted at here. There is still further Pelly could go in replacing much cold abstraction with a little more intimacy, simplicity. Such again may have been a little better the case in London. Smaller space in London likely made more of surreptitious lurking about, voyeurism perhaps of numerous extras on stage various times – supporting cast also well involved.

Incidence during Act Three became most suspect. More camp than Massenet was formally attired male chorus line ogling Manon during her Gavotte, before stiffly played following neo-Baroque written ballet sequence. Intermezzo blog refers to ‘rapacious’ descent by these men upon, metaphorical devouring of ballerinas on stage as though “fluffy white chicks.” Similar imagery quickly occurred to me as well. Light elegance of touch to what earlier the Cours-la-Reine (promenade) scene contains one furtively sought in vain, for better than minimal fulfillment thereof.

Set-up of simple chairs in rows on stage behind down curtain felt apropos for St. Sulpice, such activity could make the case for being integral to succeeding action here. Gossip among older women fawning over their new priest played itself out very nicely. Bed to left front corner was simple, but still It was a bed. Mariandel noticing conspicuously large bed at dingy inn to help along tryst Baron Ochs has set up in Strauss could not avoid coming to mind. Manon lifting up her dress for Des Grieux and audience to see – supposedly compelling him to succumb to her wiles turned anything sublime here to just vulgar and absurd. The two lovebirds then went at it further toward excessively explaining matters. Charm, allure to seduction scene, also to relieve frequently noticed slightly contrived feel to Des Grieux’s ‘Ah fuyez” all went for naught. Grandiosity to closing Fourth Act ensemble sequences at the Hotel de la Transylvanie very well restored focus to proceedings – well maintained for engrossing final scene.

Fabio Luisi conducted, amidst busy schedule also involving forays into Wagner. At obvious junctures he provided fine lift, sense of esprit Massenet’s score, its celebration of life and of Paris exudes. Luisi’s impetus seemed more involved with the big cantabile line, where it shows up. In an understated way, somewhat lumbering about at times, Luisi’s feel for Massenet was broad, partly seeking to achieve fine grandeur that where obviously necessary he and his Met forces did. Ample support for his singers and reasonable sense of proportions was hardly ever in doubt. Intimacy, febrile anxiety for Le Havre fully won his sympathy.

More flexible hand toward fully engaging with lightness Massenet percolates forth was all one missed. A suffusing mood of nostalgia however did seem to form lightly applied cowl over this music. Equally contributing to flatness overall, at the Met, was this still relatively new production. One left attending this not so empty-handed, as just feeling loosely alienated, distractible.