WilliamM

Since the trip is in January, Malaga.

CRITIC’S PICK Review: Gustavo Dudamel Delivers a Seething ‘Otello’ By Anthony Tommasini Dec. 16, 2018 It’s hard for a conductor not to make an impression with the surefire opening of Verdi’s “Otello.” The terrified people of Cyprus look out to sea where a vicious storm is battering the ship carrying home Otello, their governor. The orchestra captures the sounds of crackling thunder and roiling waves; chorus members erupt with cries of fear as they see the ship tottering. Gustavo Dudamel, one of the most dynamic conductors of our time and, arguably, at 37, the face of classical music today, made the most of this scene in his much-anticipated debut at the Metropolitan Opera on Friday, when Bartlett Sher’s sleekly contemporary 2015 production returned to the house. The orchestra seethed and heaved with intensity. Slashing chords had raw, brassy power. Mr. Dudamel kept the scattered choral declamation and fitful orchestral stretches in sync, while making the episode seem utterly spontaneous. And when the full chorus breaks into a collective appeal to God to save the ship, Mr. Dudamel pulled back the tempo to give more lyrical fullness to the pleading melodic line. From the compelling way he handled this stormy opening it seemed like we were in good hands. Mr. Dudamel came through, leading a surely paced, textured and exciting performance of a challenging score. If there were no interpretive revelations — and, for me, a couple of scenes that lacked tragic weight — this was still a significant, and overdue, debut. Though Mr. Dudamel is best known for his visionary leadership at the Los Angeles Philharmonic, he has actually conducted quite a bit of opera, including appearances at La Scala, the Berlin State Opera and the Paris Opera. And he’s innovatively presented operas at the Los Angeles Philharmonic. His feeling for Verdi came through especially during the opera’s tender scenes. In the great Act I love duet, he conveyed the bliss and rapture of the music, while giving play to its nervous flutterings. He sensitively followed the lead of the soprano Sonya Yoncheva, an exquisite, uncommonly passionate Desdemona, as she shaped the character’s soaring vocal lines with suppleness and ardor. And during moments when Otello (the tenor Carl Tanner) can barely contain his breathless desire for his new wife, Mr. Dudamel made the palpitations that course through the orchestra seem like panting. On this night, he demonstrated another skill opera conductors must have: the ability to adjust to cast changes. Mr. Tanner had taken the place of the scheduled Otello, Stuart Skelton, who was ill. It surely helped that Mr. Tanner had sung the dress rehearsal, and then had an extra coaching session on Friday with Mr. Dudamel at a piano. Mr. Tanner proved a solid, if somewhat blunt Otello, with a burly voice that can turn shaky during vocally sustained passages. But he summoned the requisite power and intemperance when the villainous Iago fills Otello with doubts about Desdemona’s faithfulness. Yet, Otello’s wrenching soliloquy in Act III fell flat here. This emotionally broken leader sings to God in halting phrases that he could have withstood any other trial — poverty, a failure turning his military trophies into a heap of rubble — better than the torture of doubt and humiliation over what he thinks is his wife’s betrayal. In this grippingly understated music, I wanted more sense that Otello is shattered, almost unable to function — a quality Mr. Tanner did not convey. And Mr. Dudamel’s conducting, though aptly subdued, was a little square. The baritone Zeljko Lucic, the Iago when this production was introduced, was again excellent, singing with dark, brawny sound. During the chilling “Credo,” when Iago declares that he was shaped in the image of a cruel God and that life is a mockery ending in nothingness, both Mr. Lucic and Mr. Dudamel took the soliloquy at face value to chilling effect. There was no hint that Iago might be inwardly tormented. The orchestra playing was lean and mean. [/url] Ms. Yoncheva, the Desdemona when this production had its premiere, was even better on this night. During the final scene as Desdemona prepares for bed, Ms. Yoncheva blended vocal radiance and aching sadness in her performance of the wistful “Willow Song.” In a recent interview, Mr. Dudamel said that the tender harmonies in the strings that usher in Desdemona’s “Ave Maria” prayer may be his favorite moment of the entire opera. He drew softly luminous sounds from the orchestra, and then beautifully cushioned Ms. Yoncheva’s eloquent singing. Though it’s essential to bring major conductors to the Met, the long rehearsal and performance schedule involved makes this difficult. That Mr. Dudamel has finally arrived is an important signifier for the company. Otello Through Jan. 10 at the Metropolitan Opera. 212-362-6000. metopera.org

Requiem for a Dream October 15th, 2018 New York Times In his new staging of Verdi’s enduring masterpiece La Traviata, Tony Award–winning director Michael Mayer conjures a world of decadence and drama that evolves with the changing seasons. Yannick Nézet-Séguin takes the podium for the first time as the Met’s Jeanette Lerman-Neubauer Music Director to conduct the production, which stars Diana Damrau as the consumptive courtesan yearning to find happiness before her time runs out, opposite Juan Diego Flórez as the man who helps her discover true love. By Christopher Browner “I was very excited by the idea of doing a new, very beautiful, very romantic La Traviata—but in a modern way.” This is how director Michael Mayer—who returns to the Met after a bold, Las Vegas–inspired staging of Rigoletto in 2013—describes his approach to this season’s new production of Verdi’s beloved tragedy. “My designers and I sought to both create a world that evokes a certain period from the past—in this case, the middle of the 19th century, when the opera was composed—but one that also allows for a modern sensibility.” The opera opens December 4, with Yannick Nézet-Séguin conducting soprano Diana Damrau, tenor Juan Diego Flórez, and baritone Quinn Kelsey in the principal roles. One of Verdi’s most intimate creations, La Traviata (whose title literally translates as “the fallen woman”) is, on its surface, a taut domestic drama based on the semi-autobiographical novel and play La Dame aux Camélias by Alexander Dumas fils. The opera focuses on the final year in the life of its heroine as she desperately struggles to find true happiness in the face of both an oppressive society and a deathly illness. The composer was immediately drawn to the contemporary story, which he described as “a subject from our own time,” and the work’s central conflict also held personal significance for him. While he was working on the opera, Verdi was in the midst of a scandalous relationship with the soprano Giuseppina Strepponi, who had originated the role of Abigaille in the 1842 world premiere of his Nabucco. The couple had recently taken up residence in a villa outside Verdi’s hometown, and the composer’s decision to live “in sin” with an unmarried mother of two illegitimate children shocked the locals. As a result, Violetta’s inability to fully escape her less-than-reputable past strongly attracted Verdi to the story. In his new production, Mayer—who also directs Nico Muhly’s Marnie this fall—explores this theme throughout, setting the entire opera in a single, ornate room designed by Christine Jones, the 2018 Tony Award–winner for Best Scenic Design for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. The set exudes the excess and decadence of Violetta’s lavish yet superficial lifestyle, an impression that is amplified by the production’s elaborate period costumes, designed by Susan Hilferty (yet another Tony winner). “The whole opera takes place in this one very beautiful space with tall windows and grand ceilings and gold filigree on the walls,” describes Mayer. “We frame the opera as a kind of fever dream in which Violetta relives the events that brought her to her final moments on earth. When the curtain rises, we are at her deathbed in that last flickering moment of consciousness.” In a sense, choosing to place all the action within the confines of a single room suggests that no matter what she does—including her escape to a country hideout with her lover Alfredo in Act II—Violetta remains tethered to her status as a kept woman. At times, Mayer points out, the set itself even entraps its heroine: “In some scenes, the beautiful filigree actually separates from the walls and becomes almost like this golden cage.” In La Traviata, Violetta also fights the unrelenting passage of time, as illness—in this case, consumption—speeds her toward an untimely end. (Marie Duplessis, the real-life courtesan whose relationship with Dumas fils inspired La Dame aux Camélias, succumbed to tuberculosis when she was only 23 years old.) Many productions of the opera—including the Met’s 2010 staging by Willy Decker, which famously featured an oversized clock on stage—have explored this aspect of the work. In his new take, Mayer drew inspiration from the cycles of the natural world. “The production progresses like the four seasons,” he says, mirroring Violetta’s own blossoming and withering over the course of the drama. “When we first encounter Violetta,” Mayer continues, “she’s in the prime of life. It’s springtime, and there are flowers everywhere. From there, we move to the country, and it’s the summertime. It’s the full flowering of her romance with Alfredo. The whole room is alive with color.” Everything begins to fade, however, when Alfredo’s unbending father intercedes and urges Violetta to end her love affair with his son. “When Germont arrives, it signals the beginning of autumn,” says Mayer, “So when we arrive at the third scene, the party at Flora’s home, everything has this feeling of rust and decay. And when the dancers come in, the scene becomes a kind of dance of death.” Finally, Violetta’s time runs out, “and in the final act, we’ve come full circle. Violetta is back on her deathbed, and it’s the cold, cold winter.” The production represents a new season, so to speak, in the careers of its lead couple, as well. Damrau and Flórez—whose early careers included many of the vocally virtuosic operas of the bel canto period—have costarred in nearly 30 Met performances since 2006. But this production marks the first time that New York audiences will hear them together in a Verdi opera. As Damrau sees it, though, Verdi’s musical style in La Traviata has clear roots in earlier Italian opera. “Traviata, how Verdi has written it, is actually still based on the bel canto style,” says the soprano. “You can hear this especially well in the first act. Violetta’s first aria is almost a little mad scene. She is torn because she desperately wants Alfredo and this love, but she also knows that it’s just not possible.” Yes Florez has been absent from the Met in a while: These performances also represent a homecoming for Flórez. The tenor was last seen on the Met stage in the 2015 company-premiere production of Rossini’s La Donna del Lago, one of six new stagings in which he has starred in the last decade.

Requiem for a Dream October 15th, 2018 New York Times In his new staging of Verdi’s enduring masterpiece La Traviata, Tony Award–winning director Michael Mayer conjures a world of decadence and drama that evolves with the changing seasons. Yannick Nézet-Séguin takes the podium for the first time as the Met’s Jeanette Lerman-Neubauer Music Director to conduct the production, which stars Diana Damrau as the consumptive courtesan yearning to find happiness before her time runs out, opposite Juan Diego Flórez as the man who helps her discover true love. By Christopher Browner “I was very excited by the idea of doing a new, very beautiful, very romantic La Traviata—but in a modern way.” This is how director Michael Mayer—who returns to the Met after a bold, Las Vegas–inspired staging of Rigoletto in 2013—describes his approach to this season’s new production of Verdi’s beloved tragedy. “My designers and I sought to both create a world that evokes a certain period from the past—in this case, the middle of the 19th century, when the opera was composed—but one that also allows for a modern sensibility.” The opera opens December 4, with Yannick Nézet-Séguin conducting soprano Diana Damrau, tenor Juan Diego Flórez, and baritone Quinn Kelsey in the principal roles. One of Verdi’s most intimate creations, La Traviata (whose title literally translates as “the fallen woman”) is, on its surface, a taut domestic drama based on the semi-autobiographical novel and play La Dame aux Camélias by Alexander Dumas fils. The opera focuses on the final year in the life of its heroine as she desperately struggles to find true happiness in the face of both an oppressive society and a deathly illness. The composer was immediately drawn to the contemporary story, which he described as “a subject from our own time,” and the work’s central conflict also held personal significance for him. While he was working on the opera, Verdi was in the midst of a scandalous relationship with the soprano Giuseppina Strepponi, who had originated the role of Abigaille in the 1842 world premiere of his Nabucco. The couple had recently taken up residence in a villa outside Verdi’s hometown, and the composer’s decision to live “in sin” with an unmarried mother of two illegitimate children shocked the locals. As a result, Violetta’s inability to fully escape her less-than-reputable past strongly attracted Verdi to the story. In his new production, Mayer—who also directs Nico Muhly’s Marnie this fall—explores this theme throughout, setting the entire opera in a single, ornate room designed by Christine Jones, the 2018 Tony Award–winner for Best Scenic Design for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. The set exudes the excess and decadence of Violetta’s lavish yet superficial lifestyle, an impression that is amplified by the production’s elaborate period costumes, designed by Susan Hilferty (yet another Tony winner). “The whole opera takes place in this one very beautiful space with tall windows and grand ceilings and gold filigree on the walls,” describes Mayer. “We frame the opera as a kind of fever dream in which Violetta relives the events that brought her to her final moments on earth. When the curtain rises, we are at her deathbed in that last flickering moment of consciousness.” In a sense, choosing to place all the action within the confines of a single room suggests that no matter what she does—including her escape to a country hideout with her lover Alfredo in Act II—Violetta remains tethered to her status as a kept woman. At times, Mayer points out, the set itself even entraps its heroine: “In some scenes, the beautiful filigree actually separates from the walls and becomes almost like this golden cage.” In La Traviata, Violetta also fights the unrelenting passage of time, as illness—in this case, consumption—speeds her toward an untimely end. (Marie Duplessis, the real-life courtesan whose relationship with Dumas fils inspired La Dame aux Camélias, succumbed to tuberculosis when she was only 23 years old.) Many productions of the opera—including the Met’s 2010 staging by Willy Decker, which famously featured an oversized clock on stage—have explored this aspect of the work. In his new take, Mayer drew inspiration from the cycles of the natural world. “The production progresses like the four seasons,” he says, mirroring Violetta’s own blossoming and withering over the course of the drama. “When we first encounter Violetta,” Mayer continues, “she’s in the prime of life. It’s springtime, and there are flowers everywhere. From there, we move to the country, and it’s the summertime. It’s the full flowering of her romance with Alfredo. The whole room is alive with color.” Everything begins to fade, however, when Alfredo’s unbending father intercedes and urges Violetta to end her love affair with his son. “When Germont arrives, it signals the beginning of autumn,” says Mayer, “So when we arrive at the third scene, the party at Flora’s home, everything has this feeling of rust and decay. And when the dancers come in, the scene becomes a kind of dance of death.” Finally, Violetta’s time runs out, “and in the final act, we’ve come full circle. Violetta is back on her deathbed, and it’s the cold, cold winter.” The production represents a new season, so to speak, in the careers of its lead couple, as well. Damrau and Flórez—whose early careers included many of the vocally virtuosic operas of the bel canto period—have costarred in nearly 30 Met performances since 2006. But this production marks the first time that New York audiences will hear them together in a Verdi opera. As Damrau sees it, though, Verdi’s musical style in La Traviata has clear roots in earlier Italian opera. “Traviata, how Verdi has written it, is actually still based on the bel canto style,” says the soprano. “You can hear this especially well in the first act. Violetta’s first aria is almost a little mad scene. She is torn because she desperately wants Alfredo and this love, but she also knows that it’s just not possible.” Yes Florez has been absent from the Met in a while: These performances also represent a homecoming for Flórez. The tenor was last seen on the Met stage in the 2015 company-premiere production of Rossini’s La Donna del Lago, one of six new stagings in which he has starred in the last decade.