Opera Casting

Mrs. Buce offers a constrained maximization problem: you have a limited budget and you have to present both Gotterdamerung and Traviata. How do you allocate your money?

Her point: for Verdi, you've got to have singers, so in Traviata, you can skimp on the orchestra. But for Götterdämmerung, people don't expect to enjoy the singing anyway, as long (I would rephrase) as the orchestra is loud enough.

I see her point. On the other hand, there may also be a substitution problem. If your Violetta catches a cold, there probably a couple of dozen other Verdian sopranos who can make a plausible claim on the role. But for any Wagner role, is there ever any more than one person--anywhere in the world--who is right for the part?

You can surmise my preference here. I'm one of those who believe that a Wagner opera is one where you go at six o'clock and sit for three hours and check your watch and it's 6:20.

Santa Fe Opera Notes

Back from Santa Fe; we caught three shows in three days: Marriage of Figaro; Falstaff; and (Handel's) Radamisto. We missed Billy Budd which, if you believe the lobby chatter, may be the hit of the season: surprising to me because I have sometimes suspected that I am the only person on the planet who actually likes Billy Budd. Evidently I need to get out more.

It's no disrespect to Santa Fe to say that Figaro is an opera that's hard to screw up: there is so much glorious invention here, and so much affability, and so much cheerful comedy, that something will survive even the limpest efforts. Indeed when you stop and think about it, the plot is pretty shambolic; tighter editing could have wound it all up in the third act. But there is so much to enjoy here that you forget all about that looseness as you kick back. In any event Santa Fe wasn't limp at all; it was buoyant and energetic altogether a delightful way to spend an evening. But who would have thought that you could have a Figaro carried by Count Almaviva? He's the villain of course, but a somewhat austere and off-putting villain, not one possessed of the malign magnetism of a Scarpio or an Iago. Mariusz Kwiecien (who? Oh, that guy.) brings it off: he's aggressive and dynamic and at home with himself--so much so that you forget that his character is mostly a rat.

I guess that Falstaff has long been a kind of favorite of mine, perhaps because it was the first opera I ever saw, back when I was 17, long before I had the least notion what it or any other opera was about. There's just an amazing amount of musical material here, almost as if Verdi, closing in on 80, felt he had to dump everything left in the trunk. In this light, people speak of Falstaff as a kind of valediction: a summing up, replete with mellow wisdom. But there is a problem here: strip off all the filigree, and you have to concede that Falstaff is one long, unkind--read "nasty"-- practical joke. It seems to me this is an issue with any production of Falstaff but for some reason, it seemed to come across more clearly in Santa Fe's setting than I've ever seen it before. It might be Falstaff himself: he is a vain, greedy, lecherous, old fool, of course, but in this production he's also a bit ridiculous: a more constrained putdown would seem a lot more appropriate than an extended and mean-spirited prank. And it might be the production: I remember seeing a Falstaff at the NYC Opera a few years back (I can't remember any names) which somehow sussed bits of darkness and melancholy behind the plot--altogether richer and more convincing.

I'm a big Handel fan, and I had never seen Radamisto before. On the whole, you'd have to say it was time well spent: great performance by David Daniels (the marquee name on this summer's Santa Fe card) with a good supporting cast. But Luca Pisaroni as the villain may have stolen the show. Remarkably: Pisaroni had played Figaro just two nights before: he was a good Figaro and he had a good comic sense, but he has perhaps a bit too much natural dignity for a role that almost requires Phil Silvers. In a posture of villainy, Handel gave him every opportunity to strut his stuff, and he rose to the occasion.

Opera insiders, by the way, seem to be treating this Radamisto as a showcase for the director, David Alden, "known" as Wiki says "for his post-modernist settings" (link). Well, whatever. Handel does present a challenge to the director, and the tendency today seems to be to declare tht all bets are off: nothing is too lurid, too excessive, too campy too--oh, go ahead and say it--to operatic for a Handel production. I guess you'd have to say that it didn't get in the way.

Verdi Responds to Shakespeare: A Note on Macbeth

We spent some time we didn’t have this evening, watching a Glyndbourne production of Verdi’s Macbeth. Some quick thoughts;

Verdi did three Shakespeare Operas—Macbeth, Otello and Falstaff, of which Macbeth is, by any measure, the weakest. But that is more a testimony to the strength of the others than it is to any intrinsic deficiency on the part of Macbeth. Granted, Verdi can’t do all the leaps and swoops now that he learned to do later—when you get right down to it, he is rather a slow starter. But that sets the bar unacceptably high: by most measures, nothing exceeds the later Verdi. Meanwhile of the early Verdis that remain in performance-Macbeth is far more polished than Nabucco, far more arresting than Luisa Miller (which I can swear we saw just a couple of years back—but Mrs. B says she can’t even remember it).

What’s really interesting is the way Verdi deals with Shakespeare. I embrace the notion that to make a good movie, you need a mediocre book which is why Gone with the Wind (say) or Bridges of Madison County are so much more fun to watch than the yawners from Merchant-Ivory.

It’s hard to make that theory fit here. Granted, maybe you could say that Falstaff is a great opera based on a weak play (Merry Wives of Windsor—but even here, I would want to insist that the play isn’t as bad as people seem to think it is). Otello takes a great play and makes it into a great opera. Some would say a greater opera. I wouldn’t go so far; I’d rather just regard them as a pair of twin peaks, each astonishing in its own way (and, bye the bye, rather different, one from another).

Macbeth draws on a much stronger play than Merry Wives, and it never achieves the heights of Otello. But Macbeth honors its source: it’s not an insult, and it’s not just a visual aid. Over and over, watching the opera, I found myself thinking—you know, this really is a glorious play. That’s a compliment to Verdi. He knew it was glorious, and even if he did not transcend his source, still he knew how to convey has own sense of awe and wonder.

Afterthought re slow starter: By the age of 46, Shakespeare had pretty much closed up shop. After the age of 46, Verdi still had Otello and Falstaff ahead of him –and also La Forza del Destino, Don Carlos and Aida. He may have been a late starter, but I can’t think of anyone comparable who lasted longer, except Sophocles (who, as it is said, was still going at 90).

Afterthought on sources: Aside from Shakespeare, Verdi also drew heaviliy on Schiller, about whom I know almost nothing (except as filtered through opera). I wonder if Verdi’s relation to Schiller is anything like his relation to Shakespeare?

Carlton Recommends Budden on Verdi

A shout-out to Underbelly’s culture consultant Carlton for the culture-find of the years: Julian Budden’s three-volume set, The Operas of Verdi (link), which is just what it appears to be—a detailed examination of all Verdi operas, chronologically, with tons of musical examples. Il Teatro Buce is an established venue for Verdi DVDs, but we have to admit we are not superswift auditors, and we can use lots of good critical guidance. Here it is, all in one place, and I can testify that it works. We spent two evenings going through Don Carlos—not an easy task, because there are so many versions, and no two performances stage it exactly the same way, and Budden tries to cover them all, but well worth the effort. We gave another two evenings to Traviata which is, by any measure, pretty accessible Verdi, and one we thought we knew pretty well. Silly us: there are a thousand leaps an connections that Budden offers, which we had missed.

Incredibly, the set seems to be out of print at the moment. I got mine used from Amazon, and I must have got the last reasonably-priced sets—the prices on current offerings are enough to crack your glass eye straight across. But there seem to be quite as number of single volumes on offer, so it shouldn’t be difficult to put together a set of your own, and at a saving.

So, two down and—what, 20-odd?—to go, but that is fine. Lots more pleasant weekend evenings to look forward to. Carlton says he’s only sorry he can’t find this kind of resource for any other composer. Amen to that, but now that I think of it, I realize I did get some profit out of Bruce Alan Brown’s Così fan tutte in the “Cambridge Opera Series,” and I see by the flyleaf that they have a lot more in the same line (link). Anyway, thanks Carlton, and here’s wishing you many happy aural hours.