COT and Moses in Chicago

Ah, it's springtime in Chicago: blossoming trees, Kindergarten t-ball, wildly fluctuating weather, and the short-n-sweet season of Chicago Opera Theater.

Dear old Rossini, the comic master best remembered for the perpetually parodied "Figaro, Figaro, Figaro, Figaro, Figaro" from The Barber of Seville and the Lone Ranger's theme (to name but a few), wrote many, many wonderful pieces of music, including rather a lot of operas. He rightly did not pass up the wonderful story of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt; throw in a doomed love story (way ahead of Verdi's Aida) between an Egyptian prince and a captive Israelite girl, and you've got a winner. Unfortunately, when some fashions change, the proverbial baby goes out with the proverbial bathwater. Before the Chicago Fire of 1871, Rossini's opera was performed here for the first and last times. Until recently.

Impacted by the dreadful economy, the COT has had to make sacrifices in their production values. There was no parting of the Red Sea, nor even red lighting to inform the sleepy audience that it was indeed the famous miracle. There was, however, strong symbolism and cogent directing as well as convincing dedication on the part of the acting singers (in most cases). Akin to successful minimalist productions seen even at the Lyric on occasion, Mose in Egitto sacrificed only the excess of period details. (For all you self-proclaimed purists, how would you wish them to dress-- according to Rossini's time or the best guesstimate of 7,000 year old fashion?)

Much fanfare goes into the fact of this production, with historical notes, commentary, and insights by definitive experts. The program notes alone are an education for even the savviest of opera-goers.

Which production choices can I mention here in order to further highlight the great things about this particular show? The simple costuming gestures, the outstanding conducting by Leonardo Vordoni, the commanding yet reverent presence of Andrea Concetti as Moses, and the real Rossini singing of tenor Taylor Stayton as one of the doomed lovers.

There were weak choices on display too: a particularly shaky Pharoah seemed quite out of his league in what should be a commanding or at least regal role, the aforementioned Red Sea parting and subsequent drowning of the Pharoah, the tenor's death-by-thunderbolt staging/lighting.

These minor complaints were of no distraction to the music, which was sublime and pitch-perfect in the pit. Rossini was the star of the evening, well championed by a brilliant young conductor and his hard-working orchestra. Bravo to Chicago Opera Theater and General Director, Brian Dickie. Opera Less Ordinary can be most extraordinary indeed.

How Can You Go Wrong with Tosca at the Lyric?

How Can You Go Wrong with Tosca at the Lyric? You can't really. (This isn't the Met, thank you!) It's an easy opera at a beautiful venue in a friendly city.

How can you go wrong with Puccini's gorgeous music? You can't at all. It tells you how the characters are feeling and what they're thinking with clear musical themes, underlying chords, etc. The arias are so memorable.

How can you go wrong with Franco Zeffirelli's sumptuous staging of Rome? Like many Italian icons, Sant'Andrea delle Valle, the Palazzo Farnese, and the Castel Sant'Angelo haven't changed much since the opera's setting in Napoleonic times, nor Puccini's own time, nor ten years ago when I was last there. And Zeffirelli gives us all the the riches, right down to candle snuffers.

How can you go wrong with one of the greatest dramatic sopranos of our day singing an Italian verismo role? Hmmm. Alas, that did go wrong, albeit not terribly. While I think that there is no finer Isolde (as evidenced here a few months ago), Voigt's Tosca taught me that there is a true difference between an Italianate voice and others. Hers is not an Italianate voice; she lacks the warmth when opening above the passaggio, among the many other finite details that the claques love to list. Of course she is an artist of depth, so she sang the character very well and had her own poignant insights to Tosca's beloved aria, "Vissi d'arte."

To match her: the reliable Vladimir Galouzine, an equally dependable a singer, no more Italianate than she, although he has more Italian roles under his belt.

How can you go wrong with the great American bass, James Morris, playing the scary bad guy? YOU CAN'T. He is the definitive Wotan of our times, and he is pretty definitively wonderful in every role he performs. His giant voice carries over and cuts through the orchestra when necessary, and quietly chills in more treacherous episodes. If he needs a fan club after all these years, I am prepared to be a charter member. 100% wow.

In January Tosca continues with a few key replacements. I'm actually going to go again so that I can hear the different Tosca, Cavaradossi, Scarpia, and conductor.

In the end, though, the little quibbles don't amount to much because this opera transcends. It's total erotica because in so many ways it is sensuous, tactile, palpably delicious, and seriously indulgent. Talk about putting you in the mood. You can't really go wrong. You could however get more right.

Upcoming Season at Chicago Lyric Opera

The art of being a well-rounded person is a daily pursuit with a weekly, seasonal, and annual arch. A little of everything: visits to museums and galleries, live music, theater, sports (does live-streaming the US Open count?!), and opera, to name but a few. For those not so inclined towards opera but vaguely interested in their once-a-year "dose," I am lightly previewing the Lyric choices for this season.

Chicago Lyric Opera is a beautiful venue which makes you feel like a chic grown up (which you are, but here's your chance to really dress like one). Wear the tux or pearls and gown, you'll be in excellent company even in the nosebleed seats (as low as $34).

• Puccini's Tosca (1900) stars the world’s preeminent dramatic soprano, Deborah Voigt, for what will surely be the *highlight* of the season. Tosca tells the end-stories of a politically active artist, the singer of the title role, and a lasciviously motivated chief of police. Sumptuous, passionate, and rich, like a sexy dinner in a good Italian restaurant. Check out the tenor's hit:
  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6urNGBR95w&feature=related

• Trade your soul to the devil? Two French versions of Goethe's age-old Faust tale are presented this year. In Gounod's Faust (1859), the aging scholar exchanges eternity for youth in pursuit of the pure Marguerite, complete with Mephistopheles incarnate and a couple of ballets. French grand opera with music perfectly rendered to the archetypes.
  

• Berlioz's La damnation de Faust (1846/1877) offers the same main characters and story but will not be a conventionally staged period piece. According to the Lyric's promotional materials, this production will be mixed media and move "at lightning speed from scene to scene — from enchanted forests to Heaven to Hell. Like a dream, it's filled with wondrous beings, from angels to creatures that would scare Satan himself." Scary or not, we shall, no doubt, enjoy the promised light show and projections.

• The quintessential Italian composer, Giuseppe Verdi, based his Ernani (1844) on a play by the great French author, Victor Hugo. The usual but exciting Italian fare sung by stars of the genre. "The Spanish king, a vindictive grandee, and Ernani — a nobleman forced to become an outlaw — are mortal enemies. Yet they're bound together by an ancient code of honor and they're all in love with the same woman!"says the Lyric.
  

• Something less familiar comes this year in the presentation of the Czech opera, Katya Kabanova (1921), a tragic psycho-drama of common repressions (cultural, sexual, social, psychological) in a provincial town. Two of the reasons I am drawn to this opera this season: Janacek's complex and melodic music and the famous Finnish soprano Karita Mattila, who, according to the New York Times, sings "with a beguiling blend of cool Nordic sound and gleaming power."

• True fun arrives with The Merry Widow (1905), Franz Lehar's best known operetta, beloved across genres. The plot is too silly to even mention, but the contrivances are really lively, complete with male chorus kick-line, can-can dancers, and, of course, all the beautiful melodies and costumes. Fluffy but feel-good, like a nice champagne.

• A comic Italian hit, L'elisir d'amore (1832), or The Elixir of Love, brings us another irrelevant plot (no one goes to the opera for a cliffhanger, you know). Cute show with stock characters, the best of which is the quack traveling salesman, Dulcamara. This melodramatic and fun opera endures because it is definitive of its musical genre. The one GORGEOUS aria goes to the love-sick tenor:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fh2Vh8jwyQA&feature=related

• Lastly comes one of the annual Mozarts: Le nozze di Figaro (1786), or The Marriage of Figaro. The genius Mozart worked with the amazing librettist Lorenzo da Ponte (his own life was too tall a tale! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Da_Ponte) to bring to musical life the satirical work of the revolutionary Beaumarchais. Wow! Talk about your hot combo, even after 200+ years. The story boils down to love and forgiveness, but there's lots of longing, lust, power grabs and position jockeying too-- any number of prime time TV hits have much in common with the elements of this masterpiece.
  

Two outstanding divas provide the Mozart star power: Danielle de Niese is just 30 years old and has already launched an outstanding international career. Joyce DiDonato hails from Kansas and has won prize upon prize while expanding her enormous career and blogging with great insight and outstanding photography! http://yankeediva.blogspot.com/ I personally think she is the best operatic singer around today. No kidding!

There you have it-- and a bit much it is! Perhaps, though, this might help you decide which one to go to. I haven't given you much musically because I would become even more long-winded. It depends on your taste, your ear, your attention span, etc. Probably Tosca and The Merry Widow are the most user-friendly to the occasional opera-goer, but there's something for every mood you may be in... Ask me or regard other people's comments if you want.

Anyhow, several other opportunities to hear and see opera in Chicago abound this season, so you know there will be more words forthcoming here. Meanwhile, see the Lyric's homepage at http://www.lyricopera.org/ and get out your long gloves-- things are going to be classy!

Lehar's "Cloclo" by Chicago Folks Operetta

The role of a critic, as I understand it, is to highlight choices made and provide commentary. In the case of the Chicago Folks Operetta's new production of the Franz Lehar rarity, "Cloclo," the choice of the show itself is based on the company's raison d'etre: the development and production of classical operettas from 100 years ago or so. With new English translations of operettas rarely if ever seen in Chicagoland, the company is well on its way to filling a niche and educating its singers and audiences.

Opera, operetta, musical theater: call it what you will, a show with music or music with acting, they are variations on a theme. The minutiae of the differences is such stuff as dissertations are made of, and vive la difference! In short, however, there's a lot more talking than singing in musical theater, so the Chicago Folks Operetta's latest offering may well be viewed as a musical. Composed some twenty years after his most famous operetta, "The Merry Widow," composer Lehar stretched the genre by including popular dance forms of his day. "Cloclo" is an even fluffier bit of farce set to Lehar's usual gorgeous melodies in waltz, tango, and even fox-trot rhythms. Unlike grander opera (which rarely requires much dancing of the leading characters, Salome being an exception), the performers of this genre must be able to sing, dance, and act their parts-- the fabled Triple Threat.


If the performers must be so talented, thus must be the director too. Good news: E. Loren Meeker, the director of "Cloclo," has choreographed, assisted, and directed at very big name places in the U.S. opera world, including the Chicago Lyric Opera. She knows what to do and does it well. "Cloclo" is one of the better directed shows I have seen in musical Chicago: excellent use of space, movement with music, rich characterizations and established relationships. That all seems like basic pre-requisites for any show-- particularly one with music-- and yet, sadly, some directors base their approach on a single abstract "concept" or visual idea. Style is a wonderful thing, but the above-mentioned basics MUST be in place in order for the audience to experience the full richness of a production. Meeker may be the return-to-basics revolutionary the opera/musical world has been waiting for!

"Cloclo," like most musical comedies, is a farce. The title character, a dancer with a coterie of suitors, flees Parisian entanglements, spends Act Two in a provincial city and Act Three in jail before all ends well. She is most sympathetically portrayed by soprano Amanda Horvath, who spends much of the show in peignoirs; fortunately, her legs are more than seaworthy, as is her voice, diction, and style. She employs her comedic timing in the same style as the wise-cracking leading ladies of the cinema in the 1930's.

The costar of "Cloclo" is the character Severin, the mayor of the Provincial city of Act Two and Cloclo's financial backer, whom she refers to as "Papa." Matthew Carroll gets quite a lot of musical numbers and executes them gamely.

Playing the mayor's wife, Melissa Treinkman sings very well and nicely portrays a role meant to be played by someone twenty years older. She gives much to the bearing of a dotty "old" gal of 50 or so, but it is disconcerting casting. (Alas, the travails of the lower-voiced singers!)

While very enjoyable indeed, no one tune or other stands out as hummable the next morning to this listener. Lehar gives us the usual waltzes, an obligatory folk tune, a men's chorus suitable for a can-can, and loads of other sweet melodies. Absolutely every one of these doubles in enjoyment thanks to the translation work of Hersh Glagov and Gerald Frantzen. Clever and witty dialogue includes a few familiar references even to Bernard Madoff and AIG.

The chamber ensemble of nine musicians led from the piano by Marta Johnson accompanied the singers rather well-- particularly given that the orchestra was behind the singers. Ms. Johnson's resume, while terse, may be understated. She certainly had the precise approach to each genre of song. With running time near three hours, a few more judicious cuts may be recommended, though.

I confess to having only seen one other show (see below) by the CFO. "Cloclo" is an offering worthy of praise. The production values (sets, costumes, props, venue) have climbed from homespun to more than passable. The direction surpasses many a more lavish show I've seen. The singing may not be all Lyric level, but Lyric Chorus level is fine enough. The CFO should be proud of itself for its goals and accomplishments. One critic is uplifted, educated, and looking forward to more soon.

COT's Owen Wingrave

A mediocre piece from a master sometimes survives less well than a single masterpiece of a lesser artist. The former is the case in the Chicago Opera Theater's Owen Wingrave. Based on a lesser work of the masterly Henry James, the masterly Benjamin Britten and his sometime collaborator, Myfanwy Piper, conveyed a dedication to pacifism by bringing the gothic tale to the small screen and stage. And to what effect? An evening of difficult but accessible music well sung. A portrait of English aristocracy of a century ago. An enduring message of individuality.

The singing was uniformly good with an outstanding performance by Matthew Worth in the title role. In a rather monochromatic role, Worth's Wingrave voiced many shades and subtleties of the music, truly triumphing. He demonstrated for me how exactly a singer should convey the musical intentions of the composer. I should say he sang well, but what I mean is that Matthew Worth made the music more alive for me than anything else. I didn't notice the odd set of moving staircases too much nor fret over the underwhelming libretto. I simply reveled in beautifully interesting Britten extremely well sung.

The other singer I would be ashamed not to mention is Matt Boehler. He sympathetically portrayed a sympathetic character very warmly.

The great musical accomplishments surely stem from the conducting of Steuart Bedford, the original conductor of the work. After hearing him interviewed on WFMT, I knew I would admire his work. I was right! These kudos could be better borne out by specific examples, I suppose, yet the evidence was all aural: bringing together the voices and instruments, highlighting and shaping the music, all the things conductors do (or are supposed to do).

Much ado has rightly been made of the appearance of this operatic rarity by this enterprising company. All of Britten's work remains important and relevant, even though Owen Wingrave may not be among his top ten. After all, even Mozart's La Finta Giardiniera remains in the repertoire.

COT's La Tragedie de Carmen

A reoccurring theme for me this year has been KNOW YOUR GENRES. By that I mean that almost everything falls into some category or other, usually by design. The latest show from the Chicago Opera Theater has a very well-designed look, feel, and genre: film noir.

Grand opera it ain't nor was meant to be, as my somewhat disappointed colleagues from the suburbs discovered. They were perhaps expecting a red velvet cape and dancing gypsies, but expectations were, indeed, challenged. (Expectations is another theme of the year to be considered more at a later date, but I was not disappointed by the look and sound of this Carmen in the least.)

Opera On The Edge, as it were, is different from the Lyric's edgiest. Chicago Opera Theater often employs young singers, on the road to established careers but not yet at Placido Domingo's level. The handful of productions I've seen there have never been of a traditional ilk-- no white-powdered wigs. This is infinitely more of a European influence as well as an appeal to the proverbial thinking person. After all, there is a challenge in all art of any merit, and Chicago Opera Theater is challenging and very artistic at all times.

OK, OK, about the show: it is strange. Sir Peter Hall's adaptation rearranges the familiar musical numbers and, as pointed out by the Tribune's von Rhein:

this Cliff's Notes "Carmen" reduces complex characters to schematic ciphers. There's no emotional development, since everything whizzes past at lightning speed, removed from a cogent dramatic context.

While opera may not be known for the layered characters of theater, one usually finds subtext in the music. Not so in this rendition: the four principal characters were reduced to the archetypal innocent, destroyer, lover, and egoist (crossing psych genres, I know!). The program notes make all this sound very reasonable and attractive, yet this Carmen presents itself as a drama accompanied by familiar hit tunes.

With so much of the music based on dance forms of the times and region (I'm thinking Flamenco-esque), I did wonder if a dance historian should be considered. This is obviously true of any Carmen production, but I was more keenly aware of this because of the bare-boned orchestra and lack of chorus.

Sandra Piques Eddy sang the title role with a most lustrous voice and seemed to have the rhythms in her body. She was a cut above all the other singers, who were merely fine. Young singers often lack the commitment that experience brings but good direction can help them accomplish so much. Which in turn delights the audience, right?

The simple set worked very well in abstract and symbol. Chris Binder's lighting design (he also did the Clemenza) was perfection! Usually the audience doesn't notice lighting unless a performer misses the mark or something goes awry. This show was so well lit that I was prompted to remember the same splendor in Clemenza: not subtle, almost campy, yet precisely perfect for the drama. Again, the film noir genre always had high-contrast lighting.

I wonder how a little Luis Bunuel surrealism would go with this adaptation? Ah, well, another genre for another time!

COT's Clemenza

Prima la musica-- the music's the first thing, the most important. Always been true of opera or else we'd see the play!

Chicago Opera Theater's La Clemenza di Tito sounds first-rate and looks stylish too. The general director, Brian Dickie, has once again assembled a talented team, who offer wonderful music to hear in a visually appealing setting.

I've begun to believe that conductor Jane Glover has descended from the gods and can do no earthly wrong. Her conducting of this Mozart work supported every singer while transporting the audience with phrasing and timing that imbued almost every minute with glory and grandeur. Remember my recent complaint of Mozart having too many notes (see below, re: the Lyric's Abduction)? If Ms. Glover rehearsed and conducted that work, I'm sure my opinion would be different!

The young singers had splendid voices all; many also had shapely legs, which they had several opportunities to display as they were directed to roll and lie about rather a lot. No one role was more outstanding or important than another, really, each having her or his solo arias and recitatives and a handful of ensembles. The standard modern convention of casting mezzo-sopranos in roles originated by castrati confuses contemporary audiences, who are now quite accustomed to counter-tenors taking up these roles. No mention of these kinds of things in the program. COT audiences must be sophisticated enough to sort it all out.

The set piece and its furnishings reminded me ever so much of the LaSalle Bank lobby-- gleaming garbage canisters, marble benches, and all. Strong, solid visuals with little symbolic bearing do provide a tasteful backdrop. Alas, I think the singers could have done with a bit more Method than choreography. There being much regret in the libretto, the story can seem a bit sad sack. A singing actor who must sustain long lines of melancholy needs more to do than stoop forward from the thoracic vertebrae. Much of the cast sported dowager's humps. All that anguish inclined them to lean against the walls or lie on the floor quite often. I began to wonder if this is a theatrical convention missing in my education? Maybe the director meant something by it, but it was too subtle for me. How about you?

Having just watched the excellently researched HBO series "Rome," I had an easier time understanding some of the aristocratic machinations and intentions of the times. I wonder if any of the cast or the director could benefit from that same series?

Nonetheless, the music, the conducting, and the singing will transport even the least interested party. I saw several children sitting still and enjoying the sounds. When the leaning and stooping were too exasperating, I closed my eyes and heard Mozart-- how much better can it get?