Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma: orchestra tutta privata e stagione di successi in Quotiano Arte 31 maggio

Terminata la stagione 2011-2012 Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma: orchestra tutta privata e stagione di successi Giuseppe Pennisi Il 27-28 maggio scorso la stagione dell’Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma della Fondazione Roma – un complesso interamente privato che non riceve alcun contributo pubblico e vive dei propri abbonati e del supporto di una fondazione culturale – ha terminato la stagione 2011-2012 con la messa in scena della versione integrale dell'Histoire du Soldat di Igor Stravinskij, composta proprio allo scopo di girare per villaggi della Svizzera negli anni della prima guerra mondiale. Esecuzione – direttore Francesco La Vecchia, interpeti principali Cosimo Cinieri e Gioia Spaziani, scene di Giancarlino Benedetti Corcos, regia di Irma Palazzo e Francesco Maria Saggese – tanto più esemplare, in quanto negli ultimi anni il capolavoro di Stravinskij è stato visto manipolato, diluito e allungato al RomaEuropa Festival e al Teatro dell’Opera. L’Histoire du Soldat ha coronato una stagione di successi all’Auditorium di Via della Conciliazione dedicata in gran misura alla riscoperta del grande sinfonismo italiano della seconda metà dell’Ottocento e della prima del Novecento; l’orchestra ha inciso l’integrale di Casella e sta predisponendo quelle di Respighi, Pizzetti ed altri compositori per importanti case discografiche come la Naxos e la Brilliant. Ha pure concluso un accordo con la Sony per l’integrale delle sinfonie di Beethoven. Inoltre, continua a svolgere un’attività sociale con concerti in ospedali e istituti di detenzione e pena. Anche se (a ragione del complicato contesto economico finanziario) non è stato ancora definito il cartellone 2012-2013, siamo in grado di anticipare che inizierà il 30 settembre – primo ottobre con la messa in scena di Turandot, curata dalla China National Opera House in prima assoluta in Europa e che avrà come tema conduttore la storia della sinfonia con accento su Beethoven e Brahms, senza dimenticare, naturalmente i compositori italiani.

L'Euro appeso alle "alchimie" dei prof in Il Sussidiario 31 maggio

GEOFINANZA/ L'Euro appeso alle "alchimie" dei prof Giuseppe Pennisi giovedì 31 maggio 2012 Foto: InfoPhoto Approfondisci TASSE/ Pelanda: col condono fiscale ci guadagnamo tutti FINANZA/ Fiat Industrial con Cnh, un'altra sconfitta per l’Italia, di P. Annoni vai allo speciale Euro e Italia: quale destino? A un mese dal Consiglio dei Capi di Stato e di Governo dell’Unione europea, a due settimane dalle nuove elezioni in Grecia, e in giornate in cui le banche spagnole minacciano di cadere come birilli, l’eurozona appare come dei pantaloni che necessitano urgenti rattoppi. La Germania e il destino “cinico e baro” sarebbero i principali ostacoli ai rattoppi. Le pezze, a loro volta, servirebbero a guadagnare il tempo necessario per rimettere mano ai difetti di fondo dell’unione monetaria e, se possibile, fare un salto in avanti sulla strada dell’integrazione europea che minaccia di sfilacciarsi un po’ da per tutto. Vediamo i rattoppi proposti, ricordando che tutti presuppongono un mutamento di atteggiamento da parte della Germania e degli altri Stati “forti” dell’eurozona. Mutamento di cui peraltro non si vedono ancora i segni. I principali rattoppi consistono nell’essere “meno rigidi” sotto il profilo delle politiche di bilancio e della moneta, nella convinzione che in tal modo si attizzerebbe una maggiore inflazione, ma si attiverebbe la crescita nei paesi le cui economie reali sono in più seria difficoltà e si allenterebbe il fardello del debito sovrano. Siamo davvero sicuri che si tratti della toppa appropriata? Luigi Einaudi riuscì a portare lo stock del debito pubblico dal 120% al 24% del Pil grazie a una rapida inflazione e a una riforma monetaria, ma lui stesso ammise che si trattava della strategia “più iniqua” nei confronti dei ceti deboli. In quegli anni, si è anche e soprattutto stati aiutati dalla forte produttività (e competitività) del capitale umano dell’Italia che, rimasto improduttivo per un decennio (dalla guerra d’Africa alla fine del secondo conflitto mondiale), ha sprigionato tutte le sue capacità. Nell’ambito dell’eurozona - ci ricorda Tyler Cowen della George Mason University - una politica di bilancio e della moneta diretta a stimolare crescita inflazionistica potrebbe finire per penalizzare i paesi deboli (e le popolazioni più deboli al loro interno) e rendere ancora più forti la Germania e gli Stati che ne hanno condiviso strategia e risultati. Particolarmente controproduttivi potrebbero essere gli interventi di “quantitative easing” da parte della Banca centrale europea; non solamente abbiamo visto che misure analoghe nel recente passato - per 1000 miliardi di euro dallo scorso dicembre - hanno avuto quasi nessun effetto - i fondi sono rimasti parcheggiati in impieghi di tutto riposo presso gli istituti bancari (senza raggiungere le imprese e la produzione) -, ma potrebbero accelerare la fuga di capitali dai paesi deboli verso asili più sicuri in quelli forti. Già adesso in Grecia e in Spagna è in atto un deflusso di capitali verso Germania, Austria, Finlandia, Slovenia che il “quantitative easing” potrebbe aggravare in quanto potrebbe essere letto come un segnale che la periferia dell’eurozona è arrivata alla frutta. Dato che i “project bonds” di cui si parla, visto il loro modesto impatto, servono principalmente a titolare i giornali da parte di chi poco mastica di economia, la toppa più promettente potrebbe essere quella di “socializzare” temporaneamente e parzialmente il debito pubblico tramite “eurobonds”. Sul tappeto ci sono tre proposte. La più ambiziosa è stata predisposta dal Centro Studi di Bruxelles Bruegel. Il debito pubblico verrebbe diviso in due aree: titoli “blu” e titoli “rossi”. I titoli blu (al di sotto del 60% del Pil di ciascun Stato della zona euro) verrebbero gradualmente socializzati, mentre quelli rossi resterebbero responsabilità dei ministeri dell’E¬conomia. In pratica, la fascia blu diventerebbe pari a 5.500 miliardi di euro; ciò creerebbe un vasto merca¬to europeo di titoli di Stato affidabili. Potrebbe essere, però, un boomerang: i titoli rossi verrebbero con¬siderati tossici e tali da infettare chi li detiene, mandando i tassi d’interesse di questi ultimi alle stelle. Più moderato il programma delineato dal servizio studi della Rabobank olandese: un programma quadriennale per finanziare essenzialmente Italia e Spagna con titoli biennali garantiti dall’insieme dell’eurozona; è prudente, forse troppo, ma consente un alleggerimento della posizione degli istituti finanziari (degli Stati maggiormente interessati dando loro attivi sicuri e solidi) e se necessario può essere esteso a titoli quinquennali e decennali e avere una maggiore durata di applicazione. Infine, il Comitato dei consiglieri economici del Governo tedesco utilizzerebbe gli eurobonds per sostituire i debiti che eccedono il 60% del Pil - un mercato di 2.300 milioni di euro - secondo uno schema venticinquennale. È uno schema realistico, ma che deve essere accompagnato da programmi puntuali (e monitorabili) per curare il “male oscuro” dei paesi in difficoltà: la produttività. Altrimenti gli “eurobonds” sarebbero una perdita di tempo che farebbe aggravare la crisi. © Riproduzione Riservata.

A Special Place in Music and Vision 1 maggio

A Special Place GIUSEPPE PENNISI was in Ravenna for the revival of a successful production of Handel's 'Rinaldo' In times of financial stringency, it pays to play it safely and to be, at the same time, original. Three theatres in Central Italy (Ravenna, Reggio Emilia and Ferrara) have revived a production of Handel's Rinaldo which, originally presented in 1985, has travelled to as many as eighteen major opera houses in Europe and in Asia. Thus, it has well amortized its production costs, at least its elaborate sets, costumes and machinery. In Europe, between 1985 and 2005, Rinaldo has been seen in Milan, Paris, Lisbon, Madrid, Geneva, Venice and several opera houses in smaller cities. It was a major hit even in Seoul, where it played in a huge oversized house, even though the production had been originally conceived for the elegant but not very large Teatro Romolo Valli in Reggio Emilia. This revival uses the impressive stage sets and costumes of 1985 but differs from the original production in two fundamental aspects. Firstly, as Handel himself used to do, it interpolates musical numbers borrowed from his other operas -- Handel composed at least two versions of Rinaldo, and secondly, it uses a specialized baroque orchestra with instruments as similar as feasible to those of 1711-1731 (when the two best known versions of Rinaldo had their premieres in London, at the Queen's Theatre and at the King's Theatre, respectively). From left to right: Maria Grazia Schiavo as Almirena, Roberta Invernizzi as Armida and Marina De Liso in the title role of Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution It may very well be that Rinaldo's new travels will reach other cities and theatres in Italy and abroad. It would be a jewel for summer festivals in many countries, especially for those emphasizing baroque music. I was at the tour opening night on 20 April 2012 in Ravenna's Alighieri Theatre. This review is based on that performance. Maria Grazia Schiavo as Almirena (left) and Marina De Liso in the title role of Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution Rinaldo has a special place in Handel's work: it is his first Italian opera composed especially for the London stage, rather than being an adaptation of previous works. The combination of an elaborate series of bewildering scenic effects with a strong cast and music of great passion, brilliance and sensuality made it a sensation for the London 1710-11 season. It was often revived during the following seasons (each time with some modifications to fit the artists available) and nearly completely re-written in 1731, mostly to reduce the extravagant scenic demands. The current version is the joint effort of the stage director (and designer of sets and costumes) Pier Luigi Pizzi and of the musical director Ottavio Dantone (founder and leader of the internationally known baroque ensemble Accademia Bizantina). They have cut the length of the opera drastically (from some five hours in the 1711-31 versions to two hours and a half) and 'borrowed' from other Handel operas. It is well known that in the eighteenth century, people dined, drank, played cards and even dated during a lengthy opera evening, just to get musically excited when their favorite singers had their acrobatic musical numbers. Today, the pace of life is faster and people go to the opera to follow the performance. Roberta Invernizzi as Armida (left) and Riccardo Navarro as Argante in Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution Baroque operas are not often performed in Italy, due both to their vocal and scenic requirements and to the Italian specific national musical tradition. However, they do attract a younger audience than melodrama and verismo do probably for their abstract unrealistic nature as well as for the emphasis on music and singing, and rather overt sensuality. Rinaldo is broadly based on Torquato Tasso's poem Gerusalemme Liberata. But the plot (tormented love affairs and battles during the first Crusade) is no more than a pretext for 'very special' theatrical effects and singing. Also, there is no psychological development of the main characters -- either Christians or Muslims. It is just pure music and pure singing in an ever-changing scenery designed to stupefy the audience. Roberta Invernizzi as Armida (left) and Riccardo Navarro as Argante in Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution Pier Luigi Pizzi solved the scenic demands -- ie open stage transformations, forests, castles and battles around Jerusalem's wall -- by using sophisticated and, at the same time, simple machinery: the basic tenement of Japanese Kabuki with elaborate props handled by stage-hands. In this review, the photos provide an idea of the sensational effects, especially in the second part where the front stage depicts the sea, while in the rest of the stage Armida's castle of pleasures and sins is transformed (without any curtain falls) into a forest in the grotto of a devout Christian magician, in the battlefield around the walls of Jerusalem. This is done with constructed stage elements, not with computerized projections. Roberta Invernizzi as Armida in Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution Rinaldo's stage direction, however, calls for young singers who can handle acrobatic acting and vocalizing. Dantone's Accademia Bizantina handled that. A few words on the orchestra: slender, essential with very good trumpets and a period harpsichord. This was wanting in the 2005 La Scala performances where a large orchestra and modern instruments were utilized. Dantone and his colleagues gave a sensual rendering of the score -- almost caressing the audience and always supporting the singers' difficult tasks. The battle scene from Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution In the 1711 and 1731 editions the title role was conceived for a castrato -- respectively Nicolini and Senesino. In the current production it is sung by a young mezzo, Marina De Liso; from her first aria, Ogn'indugio d'un amante, she acquitted herself quite well; she also sings and fences with the Saracens while riding a horse. The chief of staff of the crusaders' army is the Polish tenor Krystian Adam: Handel's arias give him a lot of vocalizing and some difficult legato, but he excels in the duets. In the men's group, the writing for his opponent, the Saracen chief of staff and king of Jerusalem, Argante, is quite remarkable. Sung by baritone Riccardo Novaro, this is a memorable character right from his cavatina or starting aria Sibilar gli angui d'Aletto to his duet with Armida and final duel with the Christians. Krystian Adam as Goffredo (right) and Marina De Liso in the title role of Handel's 'Rinaldo'. Photo © 2012 Ravenna Festival. Click on the image for higher resolution However, Rinaldo is a women's opera. The dominant character is Armida (Roberta Invernizzi), the first of a line of Handel's formidable sorceresses (such as Alcina). She gives an immediate sense of fiery sexual passion with her cavatina Furie terribili. Her sensuality reappears in her great aria Ah! Crudel, il pianto mio, introduced by oboe and bassoon solos; she had a long open stage applause. On the other hand, Almirena, Rinaldo's fiancée to be married, is sweet and tender (Maria Grazia Schiavo). She received ovations after the aria Lascia che io pianga mia cruda sorte, borrowed by Handel from his Rome oratorio Il Trionfo del Tempo sul Disinganno. She enthralled the audience in the charming birdsong aria Augelletti, che cantate. At the curtain close, there were nearly fifteen minutes of ovation. Copyright © 1 May 2012 Giuseppe Pennisi, Rome, Italy GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL RAVENNA ITALY PIER LUIGI PIZZI << M&V home Concert reviews Allegri Quartet >>

Historical Tragedy in Music and Vision 22 aprile

Historical Tragedy GIUSEPPE PENNISI visits Palermo for the critical edition of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' Any staging of Modest Musorgsky's Boris Godunov entails a major issue: which edition to perform? Musorgsky himself wrote and composed two different operas based on Alexsander Pushkin's historical tragedy and on Nikolay Karamzin's historical work of the 'Years of troubles' in Russia. The first opera is a seven scene opéra dialogué (with some spoken parts, eg at the end of the coronation scene, and a lot of declamation) centered upon the rise and fall of Boris Godunov as Tsar of the whole of Russia: it opens with his acceptance of the throne and ends with his downfall and death whilst a pretender (to the throne) advances, helped by Polish armies; he is a young defrocked monk (Grigory) who pretends to be Dmitry, the son of Ivan the Terrible, and consequently the right Tsarevich, thought to have been killed in his childhood by Boris' retinues. The second opera is a much more extended affair: nine scenes -- Boris is on stage in only three of them -- with three main protagonists: the Tsar, the pretender and the Russian people. Of the six original scenes, one was deleted and the other five were radically altered. Also, whilst in the first Boris Musorgsky made great and frequent use of leitmotifs, in the second, recalling themes have a lesser role with an important exception: the pretender's leitmotiv is greatly expanded and refined to become central of the opera. Generally, the differences between the first and the second version are attributed to the management of the Imperial Theatres and their insistence on having a love scene and a female protagonist; both these are in Act III (often named 'the Polish Act' because it evolves in Poland). Most likely, Musorgsky was influenced by Verdi's Don Carlo as an approach to historical opera. Although he did not generally appreciate Italian opera and he did not like Verdi's style -- as he was thriving for truly Russian national opera -- Musorgsky was reportedly enthralled by a Don Carlo performance in St Petersburg. He was also taken by French grand-opéra, especially by Meyerbeer's Les Huguenots, according to some reviewers the model for the last scene in the forest. Alexei Tanovitski as Boris in Act I of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' at Teatro Massimo di Palermo. Photo © 2012 Franco Lannino. Click on the image for higher resolution To make things even more complicated, Musorgsky's friends, even those who were closest to him, thought his orchestration was poor and particularly lacked harmony; after all, he was a self-taught bureaucrat. Thus Rimsky-Korsakov remodeled the original orchestral score, making it a gorgeous seventeenth century musical tapestry which conquered the Parisian audience in 1908. Later around 1930, in the USSR, Rimsky-Korsakov's version was replaced by an orchestration by Pavel Lamm and Boris Asaf'ev; this was considered close to Musorgsky's intentions because Lamm and Asaf'ev had worked on the original manuscript. In the 1950s, in Eastern Europe, the Lamm-Asaf'ev edition was practically retired in favor of a new orchestration by Dmitry Shostakovich -- much more dramatic than the previous versions. In the West, Rimsky-Korsakov's version was still going strong, but from 1960 at New York Metropolitan Opera House, a newer orchestral version (by Karol Rathhouse) was on stage. Anna Victorova as Marina and the ballet in Act III of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' at Teatro Massimo di Palermo. Photo © 2012 Franco Lannino. Click on the image for higher resolution The situation changed in 1975 when British musicologist David Lloyd-Jones published a critical edition based on the original manuscript by Musorgsky, ie on Lamm-Asaf'ev, but with full reference to the other versions, all carefully specified in the notes. It is a rougher orchestration but much more powerful than anything previously heard. Metropolitan Opera immediately set a new production with Lloyd-Jones' critical edition. I was fortunate to experience it in 1976 in the USA. Gradually, the Lloyd-Jones version is being adopted on the world's stages. In Italy, it was heard in Florence and Venice, but with the interpolation of the scene (called the St Basil scene) that Musorgsky had deleted when he wrote and composed the second Boris. Mikhail Gubsky as Gregory/False Dmitri and Anna Victorova as Marina in Act III of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' at Teatro Massimo di Palermo. Photo © 2012 Franco Lannino. Click on the image for higher resolution This longish introduction is essential because anytime one reviews the opera, it is essential to know which Boris we are talking about. For the first time in Italy, the Teatro Massimo of Palermo -- a rare institution which for six years has settled its accounts with a profit -- presents the full integral critical edition in a grandiose new staging co-produced with the Teatro Municipal of Santiago in Chile. This is a very important intercontinental undertaking which, I hope, other theaters will lease. Ferruccio Furlanetto as Boris in Act IV of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' at Teatro Massimo di Palermo. Photo © 2012 Franco Lannino. Click on the image for higher resolution Dramaturgically, this means that the 'St Basil scene' is deleted, as Musorgsky intended and wrote to his friends. Even though in the twentieth century tradition (including on Abbado and Rostropovich's recordings) St Basil and the final Kromy forest scene were often performed side-by-side (by making some adaptation to the libretto and to the score), Musorgsky had transferred two sections from the former to the latter because he intended to stress that the leading theme was not the confrontation between the Tsar, the aristocrats and the populace, but between Boris and the people, viewed as the real driving force in history. Musically, this implies an orchestration that conveys the harsh and hopeless impression which Musorgsky had decided to convey. As indicated above, Verdi's Don Carlo might have influenced Musorgsky's second Boris; however, Don Carlo ends with a magnificent ambiguity and a far distant light at the end of long tunnel, whilst Boris has a desperate conclusion -- the pretender may become as cruel and as bloody a dictator as Godunov, and the Russian people are dammed to a thousand years of wars on their soil. The only one to understand this fully is a simpleton fool. At the bottom of the social ladder, he is the only one to possess a clear and prophetic lucidity. It is on this note of richly informative paradox that Musorgsky, who was himself a social misfit but a clairvoyant like Dostoievsky's Prince Mychin in The Idiot, brings the definitive version of his opera to a conclusion. On an engrossing diminuendo after much martial and ceremonial music. A scene from Act IV of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' at Teatro Massimo di Palermo. Photo © 2012 Franco Lannino. Click on the image for higher resolution Any production of Boris is a major undertaking: nine scenes, often with open stage changes of sets, a double chorus, a children chorus and some eighteen soloists. Hugo de Ana, stage director as well as designer of the sets and the costumes, and the conductor George Pehlivanian worked hand-in-hand to provide a cohesive staging where dramaturgy and music are fully interconsistent. The close collaboration between stage and orchestral direction is also needed because in the critical edition of Boris the Shakespearean character of the epics is stronger than in other versions: like in Shakespeare's histories, the tragedy is intertwined with moments of comic relief (eg -- the tavern scene at the border with Lithuania in Act I) and with irony (eg the women's chorus in the final hopeless scene). The sets are simple and can be changed easily: revolving panels (showing the gold and silver of the Kremlin as well a harsh cell in a monastery, a checkpoint at the frontier and a dark thick forest) coupled with Russian orthodox icons. The costumes (based on Russian paintings) are grandiose and sumptuous. Great care was taken in the principals' acting and in the movements of the masses. In short, nine tableaux are divided into three parts. The first part encompasses the prologue, the first and the second acts -- ie Boris' rise to power and his twilight after the false Dmitry has emerged as a pretender and both foreign powers and the Russian aristocracy plan for the Tsar's downfall. It lasts ninety minutes but the frequent changes of scene (five) keep the action moving. The second part (forty minutes in two scenes) is the 'Polish Act'; in Poland, the pretender finds support (and love of the Princess) because the devious Papal Nuncio plans to conquer Russia and force the population to convert to the Catholic Church. The third part (forty-five minutes) is Boris' hallucination and death and the endless plight of wars in Russia. During the four hours (including intermissions), there is no fall in tension, mostly because of the close coordination between pit and stage. Conducting Boris is not especially hard, but it is difficult to keep the whole thing together. The final scene of Musorgsky's 'Boris Godunov' at Teatro Massimo di Palermo. Photo © 2012 Franco Lannino. Click on the image for higher resolution I attended the 24 March 2012 performance. Thus, I refer to the cast of that particular evening. Let's focus on the three protagonists: Boris, the pretender (Grigory/false Dmitry), and the people. Boris was Alexei Tanovitski, a comparatively young bass: a very tall and imposing figure with excellent acting abilities (especially in the hallucination scene) who could easily excel to acute and equally easily descend to deep grave tonalities. The pretender was Mikhail Gubsky; he looks like an attractive young man but acts convincingly (especially in the Polish Act and in the love scene with Marina, the mezzo Anna Victorova) and especially has a clear timbre, a generous volume and good phrasing. Gubsky reminds me of Nicolai Gedda in the same role in an old Radio France recording conducted by Issay Dobrowen (with Boris Christoff interpreting the Tsar, Pimen and Vaarlan). The people are the Teatro Massimo Chorus, strengthened with singers from the Krakow Radio Chorus. They are directed by Andrea Faidutti (and the children's chorus by Salvatore Punturo). The people also have a key role in providing Shakespeare's flairs to historical tragedy. They are a variety of social groups, often interacting with one another and with the principals and making Boris a real mosaic. There are too many other characters to be mentioned individually. Nonetheless, Marco Spotti as the monk Pimen, Jan Vacik as the devious Prince Shuysky, Igor Golovatenko as the Jesuit Papal Nuncio and Chiara Fracasso as the tavern keeper all deserve to stand out. Copyright © 22 April 2012 Giuseppe Pennisi, Rome, Italy MODEST MUSORGSKY BORIS GODUNOV RUSSIA PALERMO ITALY << M&V home Concert reviews The Barber of Seville >>

All the Ingredients in Music and Vision 21 aprile

All the Ingredients GIUSEPPE PENNISI describes a rather half-baked 'Barber of Seville' About one year ago (see 'Orchestral Nuances' in Music & Vision, 21 April 2011), I presented a rather extended review of recent productions of Il Barbiere di Siviglia which played in Parma, Palermo and a number of Provincial theatres in Tuscany and the Marche Region. A new and much awaited production was unveiled on 18 April 2012 in Rome; it is a joint venture with the Verdi Theatre in Trieste where it will be seen next year. Just to summarize my previous report, Il Barbiere di Siviglia is the only Rossini opera which has always been on stage, even during the Romanticism and Verismo periods when most of his productions had disappeared from the theatres of Europe and North America. The libretto is a lot of fun and the music sparkles like good, earthy red Lambrusco wine, whereas Paisiello's earlier Barbiere is sentimental and slightly melancholic. The Rossini opera is not merely slapstick. It is more subtle than it superficially appears to be. Dramatically and musically, Il Barbiere contrasts two parallel but quite distinct worlds: that of Figaro -- efficient, quick, someone who calls a spade a spade -- and that of all the other characters, left behind, fearful and yielding, verbose and bombastic. Even the good-looking and wealthy Almaviva is plaintive, although imbued with music of the highest elegance right from the beginning. But a mathematician or an economist would tell you from the start of the opera that according to game theory, the wits of Figaro and of Rosina would defeat all the others. Juan Francisco Gatell as Count Almaviva, Annalisa Stroppo as Rosina (in the window) and Alessandro Luongo as Figaro in Act I Scene 1 of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' at Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Photo © 2012 Silvia Lelli. Click on the image for higher resolution For several decades, however, Barbiere was presented in a severely modified form: Rosina was sung by a light lyric soprano rather than by a mezzo or, even better, a coloratura alto (a rather rare bird, especially before the Baroque revival); the bravura tenor aria 'Cessa di più resistere' was just eliminated from the finale; and several other modifications were made to simplify and schematize the score. Vittorio Gui's detailed work on the original source materials for his 1942 revival in Florence did much to root out the worst mistreatments and adaptations that tradition had imposed on the opera; since the publication of Alberto Zedda's critical edition, Rossini's original text and score have been restored to general circulation, but the tradition of treating Barbiere as vulgar rump or an impersonal farce for slapsticks and marionettes rather than a comedy of character has not entirely vanished. An exemplary production was provided by Abbado and Ponnelle in 1968 at Salzburg and La Scala; it toured several continents. Also Zurich has recently offered excellent unabridged productions, featuring Cecilia Bartoli. Alessandro Luongo as Figaro in Act I Scene 1 of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' at Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Photo © 2012 Silvia Lelli. Click on the image for higher resolution An opera reviewer would expect that a joint venture between the Rome and Trieste Opera Theatres would be up to Zurich Opera House standard. It is hard these days to conceive of anything similar to the fabulous La Scala production of the nineteen seventies when Abbado and Ponnelle assembled Prey, Berganza, Alva, Dara and Montarsolo in a staging still admired on DVD. Paolo Bordogna as Bartolo and three mimes in Act II Scene 1 of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' at Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Photo © 2012 Silvia Lelli. Click on the image for higher resolution The stage direction is entrusted to well-known Italian director Ruggero Cappuccio who recently authored successful productions of Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore and Verdi's La Battaglia di Legnano and who is rumored to have been engaged for a new Wagner Parsifal next season in Bologna. The musical direction is by the accomplished conductor Bruno Campanella, well reputed in Europe, the USA and Asia as a specialist of early eighteenth century opera. Cappuccio has a good team of stage designer (Carlo Savi), costumes (Carlo Poggioli) and lighting (Agostino Angelini). In the pit there is also a good harpsichordist: Sergio La Stella. The cast is young but well-appreciated: Juan Francisco Gatell, Paolo Bordogna, Annalisa Stroppa, Alessandro Luongo, Nicola Ulivieri, Laura Cherici, Ilya Silchukov, Fabio Tinalli and Giulio Cancelli sang on opening night, 18 April 2012 (the performance on which this review is based). Thus, there seemed to be all the ingredients for a perfect pudding. But it tasted half-baked. Hopefully, as the performances continue, many imperfections will be corrected. Juan Francisco Gatell as Count Almaviva, Alessandro Luongo as Figaro and Annalisa Stropo as Rosina in Act II Scene 2 of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' at Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Photo © 2012 Silvia Lelli. Click on the image for higher resolution There is, however, a basic tenement: Il Barbiere di Siviglia is a perfect jewel, as Abbado and Ponnelle fully understood. Not a single word or note should be changed and there is no need for any innovative interpretation. Just sing it and act it well and have a small but brisk orchestra and a conductor full of passion. It would show all its splendor. Paolo Bordogna as Bartolo and Annalisa Stroppo as Rosina in the final scene of Act II of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' at Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Photo © 2012 Silvia Lelli. Click on the image for higher resolution Cappuccio has two different keys to his interpretation. On the one hand, the twenty-four-year-old Rossini is often on stage whilst composing; thus, the opera is his dream in a stylized Seville. On the other, its plot is read as an apologue of generational conflict: to underscore this, Almaviva and Rosina wear white costumes whilst all the others have flashy attires like Capodimonte china statuettes. The first key is left halfway. The second key would be better resolved if the stage were not crowded with extras, clowns, and jugglers. All the singers are good actors and can also dance quite well. But there is just too much to digest: the pudding gets very heavy. Juan Francisco Gatell as Count Almaviva, Alessandro Luongo as Figaro, Annalisa Stroppo as Rosina and Paolo Bordogna as Bartolo in the final scene of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' at Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Photo © 2012 Silvia Lelli. Click on the image for higher resolution In the musical part, Campanella appeared tired: his conducting lacked energy, was not as sparkling as required and especially did not support the singers as expected. Gatell (Almaviva) is a good lyric tenor with a clear timbre; he was perfect in the first act and raised expectation that he would deliver quite well in the tricky final aria Cessa di più resistere, but the aria was cut, thus the opera ended almost like a Cimarosa opera buffa -- a little concertato devoid of any enthusiasm. Annalisa Stroppa (Rosina) is a mezzo with a very dark tint; she was one of the best elements of the performance. Also Alessandro Luongo (Figaro), Nicola Uliveri (Basilio), Paolo Bordogna (Bartolo) and Laura Cherici (Berta) know their respective roles inside out. I wish they had better support from the pit. There was plenty of applause and even ovation. The audience loves Il Barbiere di Siviglia and is not made up of stern reviewers. Copyright © 21 April 2012 Giuseppe Pennisi, Rome, Italy GIOACCHINO ROSSINI THE BARBER OF SEVILLE TEATRO DELL'OPERA ROME ITALY << M&V home Concert reviews Richard Roddis Singers >>

Quality of Mercy del 19 aprile

Quality of Mercy GIUSEPPE PENNISI was at the opening night of the new Parma-Montecarlo production of Verdi's 'Stiffelio' In Verdi's catalogue Stiffelio is almost a puzzle. It was moderately successful at its premiere in Trieste on 16 November 1850, but in its original version, it disappeared until the late nineteen sixties. It dealt with a sensitive topic: in a strict protestant community, the pastor discovers his wife's adultery and shows his quality of mercy and forgiveness during the Sunday service. In Verdi's times, after applause in the theatre but controversy in the press (and in the socio-political world of Trieste), the libretto had to be drastically changed; the time and place changed to the Crusaders' period, a fourth act was added, and with it's new title Aroldo, the opera had a new start in Rimini. For a few years, it was seen in several Italian theatres. The original score was considered lost. It was discovered, almost by chance, in the archives of Naples Conservatory in the mid nineteen sixties. This prompted a new premiere in 1968 in Parma but the original opera never broke much ground in Italy. However, it became an international hit following a 1993 London Royal Opera House production. As its protagonist is one of Verdi's finest tenor roles, it became a favorite opera of José Carreras and Plácido Domingo in the major US and UK houses, and of Mario Malagnini in the German speaking world. Now, it is often performed in the USA, Germany and Switzerland (when a tenor with the right pitch is available), but almost neglected in Italy, even though some musicologists (eg Julian Budden) consider it at the same level of the 'popular trilogy' (Rigoletto, Trovatore and Traviata) which Stiffelio immediately precedes. In many ways, the opera, based on a French play, is very 'modern', even though -- as remarked by the British musicologist Roger Parker -- its libretto leaves a bit to be desired; the audience cannot easily understand the reasons for the adultery of Lina (Stiffelio's wife). In the play, her short affair is with Raffaele, an accomplished womanizer, but in the libretto some passages of the action are far from clear. For Verdi's scholars, Stiffelio has an additional feature of interest: it helps understand Verdi's troubled atheism (and, thus, its religious doubts). Yu Guanqun as Lina in Act II of Verdi's 'Stiffelio' at Teatro Regio di Parma. Photo © 2012 Roberto Ricci. Click on the image for higher resolution The Parma Teatro Regio presented a new co-production with Montecarlo Opéra on 15 April 2012. This review is based on the performance that unveiled this staging, on the critical edition of the score by Kathleen Kuzmick Hansell, and published by the University of Chicago Press and the Universal Music's Casa Ricordi. The stage direction is by Guy Montavon and the musical direction by Andrea Battistoni. The stage sets and costumes are by Francesco Calcagnini. They are 'transportable' -- a clear hope that, after this revival, Stiffelio would have a new life in Italy and France -- and maybe in other countries as well. The stage set is a grey structure that with a few props becomes a hall, a cemetery and a church. The protestant community wears grey and black costumes; the only exceptions being the villain's reddish redingote and the white dress of the soprano in the last short and very tense scene. The action is swift: fifty minutes for the first act and thirty minutes for each of the second and third acts. In the pit, Andrea Battistoni, the twenty-five-year-old rising star of the Italian conducting firmament. He had recently disappointed La Scala's audience and reviewers with his handling of Le Nozze di Figaro, but he felt at home with Verdi: especially good was his mastery of the brass. After the predominantly martial overture -- a sequence of contrasting melodies, some of which return in the subsequent action -- we are right in the middle of the action without the usual initial chorus: an old preacher's chromatic prayer on behalf of Stiffelio just back home (to his congregation) after a long mission. The stage direction, sets and costumes provide the appropriate oppressive atmosphere of the general context: a tightly closed community with a strong religious color or tint which will pervade the score throughout the opera, also during the welcoming chorus, the septet, the complex double aria, Lina's prayer and the four movement duet. The atmosphere becomes increasingly dramatic as we move to the hall of the castle -the Lord of the place is Lina's father -- and then to a graveyard, a new hall and finally the church where Stiffelio makes his mercy known by opening the Bible on the episode of the woman taken in adultery and reaching the phrase 'and she rose up forgiven'. The final scene is extremely 'modern'. There is no 'concertato', as was customary in 1850, and neither are there sustained melodies. The musical core is declamation and choral interpolation. This is very effective dramatically, and quite stunning musically in the mid nineteenth century. Roberto Aronica (centre) as Stiffelio in Act III of Verdi's 'Stiffelio' at Teatro Regio di Parma. Photo © 2012 Roberto Ricci. Click on the image for higher resolution The stage action is well calibrated so as to hide the unclear passages of the libretto. Indeed, Guy Montavon and Francesco Calcagnini have handled this difficult text quite well, and have shown its modernity. They are well supported by a group of singers (especially Roberto Aronica, Yu Guanqun and Roberto Frontali, who do not lack acting skills) and a chorus (directed by Martino Faggiani) well accustomed to be a protagonist in the stage movement. As mentioned before, Stiffelio is the prototype of Verdi's tenors, with a strong center register which will then evolve into Otello's vocality. The fist aria 'Vidi dovunque gemere' -- a double aria with no cabaletta -- sets the tone, especially when the melody breaks off as Stiffelio sees that Lina's ring is missing. Also in the second act's 'concertato' quartet movement (prefiguring that in Rigoletto), Stiffelio develops an impressive musical presence through his powerful declamatory style. In the third act's confrontation with Lina, 'Opposto è il colle', Stiffelio starts with an apparently simple melody charged with harmonic tension. Thus, a very complex role for an accomplished tenor. Roberto Aronica is handling his vocal instrument with skill and wisdom. Some twenty five years ago, he started his career as a lyric tenor with a bright timbre and a flair for coloratura; with age, his voice has darkened, but his volume has grown stronger. He demonstrated that he is an excellent bari-tenor with a central register, and a promising Otello. He deserved the ovations he received at the end of the performance. The soprano, too, is an anticipation of Verdi's later work. There is little 'coloratura' -- still strong in Rigoletto, Trovatore and Traviata -- but from the initial prayer in the first act 'A tu ascenda, o Dio clemente', the vocal score is delicate, with elaborate cadential harmonies (like in Simon Boccanegra and La Forza del Destino). Also, like in the 1881 version of Simon, the soprano, not the tenor, leads the 'concertato' at the end of the first act. Again in the final part confrontation duet of the third act 'Egli un patto proponea', Lina's vocal line is pure and accompanied solely by an English horn (nearly an anticipation of Otello). Yu Guanqun is a very young dramatic soprano from Shanghai conservatory; she is still a student at the Bologna Scuola dell'Opera. Her diction (in Italian) is perfect. She has a very pure and clear vocal line, and she received open stage applause after her main arias. A scene from Act III of Verdi's 'Stiffelio' at Teatro Regio di Parma. Photo © 2012 Roberto Ricci. Click on the image for higher resolution The devious seducer Raffaele is a lyric tenor of little substance -- Gabriele Mangione handled the role well -- whilst Stankar, Lina's father, groping for revenge and eventually slaughtering the womanizer, is a strong baritone, almost a cousin of Rigoletto, but his cabaletta after the andante in the third act 'O gioia inesprimibile' is not in full voice (as Conte di Luna's cabaletta in the second act of Trovatore), but almost 'sottovoce', again a distinct innovation in Italian melodrama. Roberto Frontali is well-known and well-loved in Parma; after the third act aria with cabaletta, the upper tier exploded in a long applause. Quite important is the role of the old preacher Jorg, Stiffelio's good and merciful conscience, and almost a counterpoint to the protagonist. George Andguladze had the right grave tonalities, but on 15 April was short in volume. George Andguladze as Jorg in Act I of Verdi's 'Stiffelio' at Teatro Regio di Parma. Photo © 2012 Roberto Ricci. Click on the image for higher resolution I wish that after this revival, Stiffelio would achieve its rightful place in Verdi's productions and be considered as important as the 'popular trilogy'. Copyright © 18 April 2012 Giuseppe Pennisi, Rome, Italy GIUSEPPE VERDI TEATRO REGIO DI PARMA PARMA ITALY << M&V home Concert reviews Manon >>

Fairytale Atmosphere in Music and Vision 8 aprile

Fairytale Atmosphere GIUSEPPE PENNISI reports on the opening night of 'Die Zauberflöte' in Rome London's Royal Opera House (ROH) is having a magic moment in Italy. After the success of its co-production of Strauss' Die Frau ohne Schatten at La Scala in Milan [read: A Tremendous Production], the ROH production of Mozart's Die Zauberflöte has had six 'sold out' performances in Rome's Teatro dell'Opera. The house would have been full in additional performances but scheduling and technology prevented more extended programming. I attended the opening night on 27 March 2012 -- just the last night of Die Frau in Milan. There is an important difference: Die Frau was premiered in Milan in early March and will reach London ROH next year, whilst this production of Die Zauberflöte had its London debut in 2003 and has already been revived twice at the ROH; there is also a well-known BBC DVD with an all star cast and Sir Colin Davis in the pit. The DVD has been shown on several TV channels in many countries during the last nine years. Although this trip to Rome is the first time the production has travelled across the Channel, many of our readers are familiar with McVicar's staging of Mozart's last performed opera. Therefore, while I thought it useful to provide an extensive review of Die Frau (as a preparation for those who will see it next year at the ROH and after a few months on DVD), for McVicar's Die Zauberflöte, I will focus only on the salient aspects of the Rome performance. In Rome, McVicar's work was revived by his Canadian close assistant Dan Dooner, who is a good stage director on his own account and had operated very tightly with him in the ROH staging as well as in the revivals. The set and costumes designer was John Macfarlane, the choreographer Leah Hausman and the lighting specialist Paule Constable. In short, the production team was the same as that in London. In addition, the size, depth and breadth of the Teatro dell'Opera stage is very similar to that at Covent Garden. With a difference; whilst the ROH technology was updated some ten years ago, in Rome remodeling works in the 1950s made it impossible to improve the stage technology because, as the theatre is built on an area which in ancient times was a swamp, the ground under the stage was filled with thick blocks of concrete. Nonetheless, Mcfarlane's sets are rather simple; a single scene with props and lighting giving a magic fairytale atmosphere in a real feast of colors. This is also helped by the lighting and by the costumes -- very rigorous late eighteenth century attire for most of the characters , but for the three boys and the buffo counterparts to Prince Tamino and the Princess Pamina (viz Papageno and Papagina). As many know, McVicar's staging emphasizes the generational passage of power (from Sarastro to Tamino) rather than the Masonic symbolism, and like in the Ingmar Bergman 1974 movie presents the plot as a tale gradually becoming an apologue. The conductor was Erik Nielsen, born in Iowa but trained in Germany. One could feel the German pitch from the overture: three chords question the tonic E flat before a brisk allegro. Whilst on the DVD Sir Colin Davis is more martial, Nielsen is very skillful in the tricky recapitulation and in the counterpoint. Nielsen's style is rather sober but he keeps the real crowd of soloists (nineteen) and the chorus well under his baton. The balance between the pit and the stage is good, even in the finale of the two acts when there are vast concertato with chorus. I felt that Juan Francisco Gatell (Tamino) was a good heir to the late Fritz Wunderlich right from his aria 'Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön' when the Prince falls in love with Pamina just by looking at her portrait. He has a clear timbre and a perfect emission. He does not overdo the acute and has an excellent phrasing. His Pamina is the very young and quite attractive Hanna-Elisabeth Müller, just out of school, from the Bavarian State Opera. In the 2003 production, the role was played by the then very young and now world famous Diana Damrau. I wish Hanna-Elisabeth Müller a similar career; she was cute in her duets with Juan Francisco Gatell, but as aggressive as a cat in her second act aria with chromatic harmony in D minor. In the second couple, Marcus Werba is an experienced Papageno, a role he has sung many times, although only in two previous productions in Rome -- in 2001 and 2004. He handles very well both the vocal and the acting tricks of a buffo but full of meaning. Less significant is the role of 'his' Papagena, well interpreted by Sybilla Duffe. Altogether, the two younger couples fared much better than the older couple, the formerly married but now always fighting with each other Sarastro and the Queen of Night. On 27 March, Peter Lobert sounded a tired Sarastro (who missed a couple of notes in the first act). As the Queen of Night, Hulkar Subirova has three very difficult arias with giddy coloratura. In my view, she was at a good professional level but the upper tier expected more acrobatic agility in the first aria of the second act. The other soloists were all at a good level. The chorus, directed by Roberto Gabbiani, deserves a special mention: both in 'Wenn Tugend und Gerechtigkeit' and in 'Heil sei euch Geweihten', we understand that Beethoven must have studied Die Zauberflöte very well before composing his Fidelio. There were ovations when the curtain fell. Copyright © 13 April 2012 Giuseppe Pennisi, Rome, Italy WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART THE MAGIC FLUTE ROME ITALY AUSTRIA DAVID MCVICAR TEATRO DELL'OPERA << M&V home Concert reviews Die Frau ohne Schatten >>

Uneven but Gorgeous in Music and Vision 23 marzo

Uneven but Gorgeous GIUSEPPE PENNISI reports from Naples on 'I Masnadieri' and 'Die Räuber' I Masnadieri (literal translation: 'The Bandits') are on the road three times this season in Italy: a) they run Europe from Saxony to Bohemia where they rob, rape and set to fire homes and villages (even Prague). b) Verdi's opera on their adventures (rarely performed in Italy, even though it is part of standard repertory in Germany, Austria, Switzerland and the USA) is presented in a new production that after a series of performances in Naples (until 31 March), will go to Venice, Trieste and Parma. c) Nearly in parallel, a staging of Schiller's tragedy (Die Räuber) from which the opera is drawn, is in one of the major theatres in Rome and will go on a tour to several locations in central Italy. I was in Naples at the Teatro San Carlo preview on 18 March 2012. The stage director, Gabriele Lavia, and the set designer (Alessandro Camera) and costume designer (Andrea Viotti) are the same. Gabriele Lavia. Click on the image for higher resolution Lavia is a well-known Italian director of high repute, as well as being an actor. He has a special flair for this early tragedy by Friedrich Schiller, staged for the first time in 1782 in Mannhein and generally considered one of the first examples of Sturm und Drang, the German movement that preceded and opened the way to Romanticism. He had already staged Schiller's full text in 1982 in a successful production (in which he also interpreted the role of Carlo) that toured several Italian towns, and now he is directing a group of young actors in another staging which will be seen in several Italian theatres. In 1986, he dared to produce the then nearly forgotten Verdi opera in Pisa, Lucca and Livorno. Now, as mentioned, a brand new and much grander production is touring major Italian opera houses. The basic plot of both I Masnadieri and Die Räuber is a gruesome and complicated family feud where the young son (Francesco) wants the power and the belongings of the father (Massimiliano), thereby pushing the legitimate heir (Carlo) to join a gang of street and forest bandits. Francesco also wants Carlo's woman (Amalia). After a series of complicated developments (which are intertwined with several sub-plots in the full text of Schiller's tragedy), all the protagonists kill one another in the final scene. Aquiles Machado as Carlo in 'I Masnadieri'. Photo © 2012 Francesco Squeglia. Click on the image for higher resolution A few words on the opera before examining Lavia's concept for the production and the musical aspects. British musicologist Roger Parker is very right in considering I Masnadieri as 'one of the most intriguing of Verdi's early works'. Verdi was thirty-three years old when the opera was commissioned by Her Majesty's Theatre in London. Queen Victoria and her retinue were in the theatre on 22 July 1847, the opening night. The opera had all the ingredients of a great and lasting success: a high romantic basis in Schiller's tragedy, a distinguished man of letters (Andrea Maffei) as librettist (he had just written the libretto for Macbeth), a cast of international standing, featuring Jenny Lind, the Swedish dramatic coloratura soprano most appreciated at the time. Also Verdi and Maffei tried to break from many of the standard operatic conventions (such as the opening chorus and the concertato finale). For instance, the prelude is a lachrymose cello solo written expressly for the best cellist available in London, and quite special music was composed for Jenny Lind. The London performances were successful, indeed the newspapers of the time called it 'a triumph'. Giacomo Prestia (left) as Massimiliano and Aquiles Machado as Carlo in 'I Masnadieri'. Photo © 2012 Francesco Squeglia. Click on the image for higher resolution The following year I Masnadieri had its Italian premiere at the Teatro Apollo in Rome (where Verdi later christened Il Trovatore and Un Ballo in Maschera) but was considered somewhat unwieldy; it lacked scenes of character confrontation and, no doubt, there were problems finding a prima donna of sufficient standard for the female protagonist role, hand tailored for Jenny Lind. The opera was staged in a number of Italian theatres between 1848 and 1860, but then faded away. Verdi never came back to refresh or to update this early child of his (as he did for instance for Macbeth, Stiffelio and Simon Boccanegra). Lucrecia Gracia as Amalia in 'I Masnadieri'. Photo © 2012 Francesco Squeglia. Click on the image for higher resolution The opera was nearly forgotten until 1975 when a concert performance by the Opera Orchestra of New York was a major hit. The rediscovery was followed with performances in San Diego, and then at several US opera houses. It also made it to the Royal Opera House in London. Now it is part of the standard repertory in Zurich, in Frankfurt and at the Deutsche Oper in Berlin. But its Italian performances are rare and far between. I agree with Italian musicologist Giovanni Carli Ballola that although the libretto has several weaknesses and as many as nine different changes of sets in the four acts (some one-hundred-and-thirty minutes of music), overall I Masnadieri is far superior to several more widely performed Verdi operas from the same period, such as Luisa Miller. In terms of musical innovation, I Masnadieri is even stronger than Macbeth. Lucrecia Gracia as Amalia and Artur Rucinski as Francesco in 'I Masnadieri'. Photo © 2012 Francesco Squeglia. Click on the image for higher resolution However, Schiller and Verdi had different concepts of the meaning of the complex plot, and Gabriele Lavia added his own special interpretation of both Schiller and Verdi. For Schiller, I Masnadieri is a moral play: rebellion destroys all institutions, including the family, the primordial and the sacred. In Schiller, God is present: Francesco, aware of his sins, seeks confession and forgiveness but the pastor refuses. For Verdi, the plot is just a grueling family drama. But, and this is quite strange for a non believer, the confession scene is maintained in the opera (while many other elements of the tragedy are cut out). For Lavia, the essence of the plot is the rebellion of the youngsters against an oppressive power. In 1982, I Masnadieri seemed like revolutionary young rebels, but in the current production, they advance like a New York gang. They do all kinds of horrible things on a single set looking like a poverty stricken urban ghetto. The wealthy Francesco is even worse: a would-be parricide and fratricide, in his manor the parties become orgies with transsexuals and all. In a playhouse, this may be an interesting reading of Schiller's tragedy, but in an opera house this is in conflict with Verdi's uneven but gorgeous orchestral and vocal score. Nicola Luisotti. Photo © 2012 Luciano Romano. Click on the image for higher resolution The musical direction was entrusted to Nicola Luisotti, a well-known conductor and recently appointed musical director of the Teatro San Carlo in Naples. He kept the balance between the pit and the stage very well, and gave a tense atmosphere to the score (as required by the plot). Also, he rightly stressed each act's prelude -- excellent introductions to a melodrama made up of musical numbers intertwined by recitative. Obviously, Lucrecia Garcia, in the role especially composed for Jenny Lind, was much awaited. She did well in the cavatina with cabaletta 'Lo sguardo avea degli angeli' in Act I Scene II, a very ornamental piece accommodating freely flowing decorations. In Act II she handled the adagio with cabaletta 'Tu del mio Carlo al seno' beautifully. In her Act III duet with Carlo (Aquiles Machado), Qual mare qual terra, she almost overpowered the tenor, not because Machado lacked volume, but because his texture is more lyrical than dramatic. Artur Rucinski (centre) as Francesco in 'I Masnadieri'. Photo © 2012 Francesco Squeglia. Click on the image for higher resolution The bad guy Francesco was the Polish baritone Artur Rucinski. Lavia also makes him ugly and crippled. In fact, Verdi gives him only one important scene: the duet with the pastor in Act IV Scene I, an effective baritone-tenor duet, a forerunner of those in Un ballo in maschera and especially La forza del destino. Both Rucinski and Walter Omaggio deserved an open stage applause. On the other hand, the Act II duet of Rucinski with Garcia Io t'amo Amalia was quite disappointing because it dissolves too quickly into a cabaletta by the soprano: most likely a price Verdi had to pay to Jenny Lind. Giacomo Prestia, an experienced Verdi bass, was Massimiliano, who excelled in the trio at the end of Act III. Aquiles Machado (centre) as Carlo with members of the Coro del San Carlo in 'I Masnadieri'. Photo © 2012 Francesco Squeglia. Click on the image for higher resolution As in many early Verdi operas, the chorus is as important as the protagonists, and here they did quite well under the direction of Salvatore Caputo. Copyright © 26 March 2012 Giuseppe Pennisi, Rome, Italy GIUSEPPE VERDI FRIEDRICH SCHILLER NAPLES ITALY << M&V home Concert reviews Derby Concert Orchestra >>

STRAUSS “WOMAN” ON THE ANALIST’S COACH in Music and Vision 15 marzo

STRAUSS “WOMAN” ON THE ANALIST’S COACH La Scala and the Royal Opera House join forces to set Hofmannsthal and Strauss masterpiece in Freud’s studio - Giuseppe Pennisi reviews it Hofmannsthal and Strauss masterpiece Die Frau ohne Schatten is a very special fairy tale or apologue rarely performed in Italy. In the last thirty years, it was on stage in Milan twice with a production by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle imported from Köln (and conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch and Giuseppe Sinopoli) and twice in Florence. One of the two Florence staging was the Milan - Köln production. The other was a Yannis Kokkos-Zubin Mehta extravaganza which inaugurated the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino Festival on 29 April 2010 but due to strikes had only two performances (‘Difficult to Forget’ in M&V 2 May 2010). It was also a bad blow on the theatre finances which, after such an effort, was on the brink of bankruptcy and had to rescued by a special Government commissioner. There are several reasons for this neglect: on the one hand, Zauberopern (eg fantastic opera based on fairy tales and allegories) has seldom been popular in Italy; on an another hand, Die Frau ohne Schatten requires a huge orchestra, five splendid but very difficult voices (and a host of secondary soloists) and a very complex staging with ten different scenes. Way back in the past, when opera audiences were not accustomed to constructed sets and to projections, staging was handled with painted drops. I recall a perfectly acceptable Die Frau ohne Schatten in Frankfurt in 1967 with simple but effective painted scenes. Nowadays, either the staging is so elaborate to break the theatre finances (as in the case of Kokkos’ Florence 2010 production) or the whole plot is set in a different time and context than those provided for in the libretto with the objective of containing production costs. Jean-Pierre Ponnelle made use of Chinese theatre stylized approach (and, of course, the setting was China). In the recent Salzburg Festival Vienna Staatsoper production, the stage director Christof Loy had a rather innovative idea that ruffled quite a few traditional feathers. He did away with all the Asian (mostly Indian) fairy tale mythology and special effects. The plot was set in or around 1955 in the Sofiensaal where under the musical direction of Karl Böhm and with a stellar cast, Die Frau ohne Schatten was being recorded. As the recording sessions proceeded, the singers entered the psychology and the drama of the characters; thus, the emphasis was not on the complex and elaborate tale, costly to stage, but on a human, maybe too human progression to childbearing, happiness and compassion for others (see ‘Faith and the Devil’ in M&V 22 August 2011). For this joint venture between La Scala and the Royal Opera House, Claus Guth has a different concept: the plot is set around 1919 (when Die Frau ohne Schatten had its premiere in Vienna) but the location is a mental hospital where the protagonist is taken by her husband; she is emotionally disturbed and needs psychiatrist’s attention. Thus, the complicated plot becomes a dream with nightmare touches. There is no need for ten different sets with Palaces, gardens, poor people’s dwellings and even waterfalls. Just a single set – a hospital room – , a revolving stage and projections. The choice does not lack logics; the opera was conceived in Freud’s times and other Hofmannsthal – Strauss’ works (eg Elektra, Die ägyptische Helena) are deeply embedded in Freud or even Jung thinking. It is fair to say that the opening night 11 March part of the audience and several Italian opera critics did not appreciate Guth’s approach to Die Frau ohne Schatten. A few orchestra rows and a couple of boxes where empty 14 March (the evening on which this review is based) but an exceptional success was tributed to the whole performance- viz. staging, orchestra and singers. Nonetheless, the approach was not so daring; eg in 1999 in Florence Lev Dodin staged Tchaikovsky’s Pique Dame in a mad house as a nightmare of the protagonist; in 1986 David Pourtney had set Dvorak’s Rusalka in an asylum for a ENO production that toured the world for nearly twenty years; for years , in Berlin a Staasoper-unter-the-Linden standard fare has been Verdi’s La Traviata conceived by Peter Mussbach as Lady Diana’s last dream before dying in the Pont de l’ Alma tunnel in Paris right bank. More fundamentally, in the dream there are all the elements of the plot including the animals (eg the falcon, the stag, the gazelle) both singing and acting, the rocks, the palace and poor workers’ dwellings. Guth’s approach may very well fit the score better than the colossal/special effects style (eg Kokkos, Florence 2010 and several Metropolitan Opera House staging of this masterpiece). Indeed, Die Frau ohne Schatten has a huge expressionistic orchestral canvas (including grandiose scenic descriptions) but few lyrical set pieces (there are some marvellous duets, though, and enthralling arioso). Instead, like in Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande, very intimate dialogues, strung upon a rich orchestral chain, are linked by elaborate recitative and even ‘chit-chat conversation pieces’ that do anticipate Strauss’ further developments (most notably, Capriccio). Thus, the musical director has a very difficult task, especially at the end of the second act when the orchestral richness may cover the voices in a major outburst during a concertato. All these elements are very much in line with Freud’s and Jung’s period. Written and composed during the World War I, this three act, two hundred minutes opera is based on a host of sources, firstly The Thousand and One Nights and other Eastern literature. The plot may appear so complicated and so dense with early nineteenth century symbolism to be difficult to grasp: Hofmannsthal himself wrote a summary and explanation before the Vienna premiere. Is it really so hard to grasp why a young and beautiful but shadowless Empress has to try all kind of tricks to defraud a poor woman of her shadow in order to become pregnant within one year from her wedding? This would prevent her husband, a young and attractive Emperor, from being doomed to transformation into a mountain of stone. Is it really so difficult to understand that the Almighty Kekobab forgives everyone when he sees their suffering? Then, the unborn children (the chorus at the end of the first act) can come to life at the end of the opera. And ,in the La Scala- Covent Garden production, when the woman wakes up and the dream is over, Kekobab disappears too. At a first sight, the main, and (according to many authors) only meaning of the opera is the fullfillment of anyone's personality through childbirth and, thus, a celebration of marital bliss (like in Die ägyptische Helena or Intermezzo). There and other themes, however, as in many German operas, intertwined with this main element. Firstly, initiation to joy through suffering. Secondly, the true nature of love: the Emperor and Empress appear very happy, but pretty soon we understand that they are linked more by obsession than by love: he makes love to her every night and goes hunting every day -- 'for the rest, nothing'. They are tired of only sex and hunting. For the shadowless Empress, to acquire a shadow means to have more than sex and ennui in the palace while the Emperor is out hunting. The other couple, the dyer Barak and his wife (the 'Frau' of the title) are not happy either: she is in a secondary subordinate position. A Mephistophelic nurse tries to solve this host of psychological problems by arranging for the woman's shadow to be acquired by the Empress. But this creates more hurdles; the deadline is past and the Emperor is transformed into a mask of stone. Also, the marital difficulties between Barak and his wife are aggravated, and it's only when the mask of the Emperor cries and the Empress both empathizes with Barak and his wife and attempts to make good of her past deeds, that the plot can unwind in a conclusion full of hope. Thus, along with the main theme on marital love and childbearing, there are much broader components: the power of self-sacrificing love, the recognition of the individual's responsibility to humanity (present and future), the preparedness to confront death in order to live a full life. Just remember: when the work was thought, written and composed, Europe was covered by the blood of World War I; Hofmannsthal and Strauss had produced, within that very context, Ariadne auf Naxos -- the epos of the victory of Eros over Tanathos. The political messages are as equally valid today as they were in 1919 when the opera was first performed (because, although completed in 1917, Hofmannsthall and Strauss had expressed the wish that it should be staged only when peace came). The musical aspects are extremely modern. The score has a contrasting combination of both chamber music and full orchestral styles. There is a lot a chamber music (including magic interludes for a few instruments, even one with just a violin) but also big symphonic scenes . It's very difficult to keep a balance between the orchestra and the terrifically hard vocal score. Just an example, the quarter where Barak and the woman sing simultaneously on stage and the spirit-messenger and the nurse off-stage. Yet every word of this poetic text must be heard and understood. This review starts with the orchestral part because the still comparatively young conductors Marc Albrecht had to step in almost at the last moment due to a illness of Seymon Bychkov . As compared to recent performances of the opera I reviewed for ‘Music and Vision’ , he kept a careful balance between the various sections of the score (eg chamber music, full symphony) similar to that of Solti and Böhm, both excellent interpreters of this sumptuous yet tender and dense orchestral writing as well as of its molding with an equally terrific and terrifying vocal score. In short, he was less late romantic than Mehta in Florence in 2010 and less calligraphic than Thielemann in Salzburg in 2011. After four and a half hours of performance (with two twenty five minute intermissions), the audience exploded with nearly twenty minutes of accolades. He was especially good in getting (when required) chamber music orchestra from one hundred and twenty elements in the pit and in providing excellent sonority in the most intensive and most emotional passages. Even the bass (often a weak point of La Scala orchestra were terrific. Albrecht gave a lot of attention to the orchestral counterpoint to the voices. Albrecht had, no doubt, worked very closely with the entire team, especially with Claus Guth, Ronny Dietrich (dramaturgy), Christian Schimdt (sets and costumes), Andi A. Mueller (video) and Olaf Winter (lighting) as well as with the singers. In the vocal cast, there several old acquaintances of music lovers who consider Die Frau ohne Schatten among the masterpieces of the twentieth century music theatre. First of all Elena Pankratova is almost unknown in the major European and American opera houses until 29 April 2010 when at the Maggio Musicale in Florece, she had been invited by Mehta to replace Jeanne-Michélle Charbonnet who was scheduled to be 'Die Frau' but had cancelled. She confirms to be an outstanding acute dramatic soprano both in her arioso and in the taxing duet with Barack (a superb Falk Struckmann) , full of erotic tension. The Nurse was Michaela Schuster (the dramatic mezzo recently appreciated in Salzburg but Guth asked for quite a different acting than that required by Loy). The Imperial couple were Emily Magee (as beautiful and as great an acute dramatic soprano) and Johan Botha (a true heldtenor with stern and clear voice, but too many pounds to look as a strenuous lover every night of the year and courageous hunter every day). Too many to mentions all the others. Just a minor point; in this La Scala- Covent Garden production a young but accomplished singer like Maria Radner has the comparatively minor role of ‘the voice from Heaven’. In summary, a tremendous production.

Cecila Bartoli, doppio trionfo a Salisburgo in QuotidianoArte del 30 maggio

mercoledì 30 maggio 2012 Al Festival di Pentecoste Cecila Bartoli, doppio trionfo a Salisburgo Giuseppe Pennisi Grande successo di Cecilia Bartoli, sia come manager sia come artista, al Festival di Pentecoste a Salisburgo, dove ha preso il testimone da Riccardo Muti (che ha avuto lo stesso incarico per cinque anni). Il programma – come si ricorderà - era imperniato sulla figura di Cleopatra. Molti spettatori si sono abbonati a tutti e quattro gli spettacolo proposti. Quello più applaudito è stato Giulio Cesare in Egitto di Georg Friedrich Händel; l’opera tornerà in agosto al Festiva d’Estate. Occorre correre per i pochi biglietti ancora disponibili. Con Il Giardino Armonico diretto da Giovanni Antonini e la regia di Patrice Caurier, Cecilia Bartoli è stata una Cleopatra affascinante e sensuale. Cesare era il controtenore Andreas Scholl, Cornelia, Anna Sofie von Otter, Sesto, Christophe Dumaux. Un cast quindi di grande livello. Giulio Cesare in Egitto è come una pietra miliare del teatro in musica non solo per la caratterizzazione dei personaggi (insolita in un’epoca barocca dove i vocalizzi contavano più dell’evoluzione psicologica) ma anche perché anticipa - ad esempio l’uso del recitativo accompagnato che esplode in un’aria nella scena dell’appuntamento tramutato in imboscata - pure il declamato del Novecento. L’allestimento ne ha messo in risalto il valore e il significato. La biglietteria ha venduto il 96% dei posti disponibili; 10.500 spettatori da 39 Paesi hanno visitato Salisburgo nei pochi giorni del Festival. Incassi record, oltre un milione e cento mila euro, nonostante la crisi. “È un miracolo che si deve a Cecilia manager “, ha affermato la presidentessa del Festival Helga Rabl-Stadler. I

I DUE VOLTI DEGLI EUROBONDS in Il Velino 29 maggio

I DUE VOLTI DEGLI EUROBONDS Edizione completa Stampa l'articolo Roma - Perché tornare a parlare di eurobonds? Sembrano un tormentone costante di questa rubrica anche perché abbiamo cercato di fare supplenza alla più paludata stampa economica, che ne confonde le varie proposte e prende fischi per fiaschi - si veda la prima pagina de Il Sole 24 Ore del 27 maggio – disorientando i lettori tra una modesta infusione di project bonds (che hanno oltre 300 anni di vita) e obbligazioni per mettere in comune responsabilità e rischi di emissioni sovrane per rifinanziare debiti pure essi sovrani. Torniamo sul tema perché in queste settimane gli eurobonds per “socializzare” il debito europeo sono al centro di un negoziato nell’ambito dell’eurozona in vista del vertice dei capi di Stato e di governo dell’Unione Europea (Ue) in programma a fine giugno. I loro “supplenti” hanno avuto mandato di studiarli nella speranza che portino qualcosa a casa. Li invocano non solo i PIIGS (Portogallo, Italia, Irlanda, Portogallo, Spagna) ma anche il neo eletto presidente dei francesi François Hollande che ne ha fatto uno dei punti centrale della campagna per l’Assemblea legislative (i cui due turni elettorali si terranno il 3 ed il 17 giugno). Dovrebbero essere un toccasana per dare nuova vita all’eurozona. In effetti, senza entrare in dettagli tecnici, gli eurobonds sono un po’ come un mantello double face, di quelli che un tempo andavano di gran moda. Da un lato, sembrano come il grimaldello per fare avanzare l’integrazione europea (portandola anche ad alti livelli politici) con una nobile espressione di solidarietà non una mera stampella tecnica all’euro. Da un altro vengono visti come un prestito a un cognato moribondo (e che non si è mai amato) con l’obiettivo che la propria sorella (moglie del morente) abbia i mezzi per pagare i funerali e una bella tomba. Ha nettamente ragione Giuliano Amato nel ricordare che una parte importante della classe dirigente degli Stati del Nord Europa ha sempre pensato che i PIIGS non fossero in grado di rispettare gli impegni presi con l’ingresso (da loro richiesto) nell’euro. Amato dimentica, però, che la Francia, pur non appartenendo (per il momento) alla stirpe dei PIIGS, ha proposto l’unione monetaria non solamente perché temeva un apprezzamento del marco (negli anni post-unificazione tedesca) a cui non avrebbe potuto far fronte (come previsto dagli accordi del Louvre del 1987) ma anche e soprattutto perché sapeva che l’eventuale fine del mercato unico avrebbe comportato la dissoluzione di quella politica agricola comune di cui è la maggiore beneficiaria. Da fine giurista, infine, dovrebbe conoscere il principio “no taxation without representation”. Al pari degli accordi di riassetto strutturale promossi per decenni da Fondo Monetario e da Banca Mondiale, ove venissero creati eurobonds, gli Stati “forti” avrebbero tutto il diritto di mettere bocca nella politiche non solo di bilancio di quelli “deboli”. I PIIGS non dovrebbero risentirsene e gridare all’“onta del commissariamento” perché, grazie all’euro garantito dai “forti”, hanno avuto un decennio circa di bassi tassi d’interesse durante il quale avrebbero potuto, e dovuto, effettuare le riforme per migliorare il loro nodo centrale: la bassa produttività. L’aumento della produttività non è un dono del Cielo ma il risultato di politiche e di comportamenti (degli individui, delle famiglie, delle imprese, della pubblica amministrazione, del ceto politico). Difficile dire se il prossimo Consiglio Europeo partorirà qualche forma di eurobonds. Se lo fa, sarà necessariamente accompagnata da qualche forma di cessione di sovranità (dai PIIGS agli altri). Non lamentiamocene (ilVelino/AGV) (Giuseppe Pennisi) 29 Maggio 2012 17:29

Nell'Attila di Verdi la bacchetta di Muti fa la differenza in Il Sussidiario 29 Maggio

Musica e concerti Consiglia OPERA/ Nell'Attila di Verdi la bacchetta di Muti fa la differenza Giuseppe Pennisi martedì 29 maggio 2012 Un momento dell'Attila di Verdi Approfondisci OPERA/ Il "proibito" Re Candaule seduce il Teatro Massimo di Palermo OPERA/ "Rinaldo" torna a Ravenna e fa scuola Questa volta, si può davvero dire che la bacchetta fa la differenza. Attila di Giuseppe Verdi è sbarcato a Roma il 25 maggio per due cicli di rappresentazioni, il primo sino a 5 maggio e il secondo a cavallo tra luglio ed agosto. La regia (Pier Luigi Pizzi) e gran parte degli interpreti non cambia: Riccardo Muti dirige il primo ciclo, Donato Renzetti il secondo. È la quarta volta che questo lavoro composto per La Fenice da un Verdi trentatreenne viene messo in scena dal Teatro dell’Opera di Roma. Nel 2005, recensendolo su Milano Finanza scrissi: Punto dolente è il maestro concertatore, Antonio Pirolli, a lungo alla direzione musicale dei teatri di Ankara e Istanbul. Temendo una direzione bersagliera, smussa un po’ tutto sino al fine. Dove di fuoco ne mette anche troppo. La sera del 25 maggio, invece, il piglio di Riccardo Muti si è avvertito sin dall’introduzione orchestrale in cui la tinta cupa dei violoncelli e dei fagotti ha correttamente dominato il golfo mistico. Di ottimo livello, poi, l’equilibrio tra buca e palcoscenico. Buona la decisione di dividere questo lavoro diseguale in due sole parti, accentuandone il ritmo. Ascoltai una buona concertazione di Attila da parte di Riccardo Frizza nel 2010, una da dimenticare di Andrea Battistoni pochi mesi dopo. Ancora valida quella di Anton Gaudagno del 1976 (ne esiste una rara registrazione effettuata a Washington). Pur se tratto della drammaturgia di questo allestimento di Attila in altra sede, è utile ricordare che l’opera ha avuto alterne vicende nella considerazione sia del pubblico sia della critica. Verdi la compose su un mediocre libretto di Temistocle Solera (a cui rimise mano Francesco Maria Piave). Si basava su un dramma eroico del tedesco Zacharias Werner. Dato che gli unni potevano essere tra i suoi pro-genitori, Werner non doveva avere tanto in antipatia né il barbaro re né le armate sotto le quali, secondo la leggenda, il suolo non fioriva più. Inoltre, l’opera era stata commissionata da La Fenice di Venezia, dove ebbe la “prima” il 17 marzo 1846; allora la città lagunare (parte del dramma si svolge ad Aquileia) era parte integrante dell’Impero austro-ungarico, la cui censura non ravvisò nulla di disdicevole né nel testo né nella musica. Nonostante ciò, è stata erroneamente considerata, per decenni, come l’opera risorgimentale “par excellence” di Verdi; questo merito (più presunto che effettivo) le assicurò fortuna sino al 1870 o giù di lì seguito da un lungo declino sino a tempi recenti. Riapparve, in effetti, negli Anni Cinquanta. Negli Usa, diventò un cavallo di battaglia di Justino Diaz e di Beverly Sills. In Europa, e in Italia, di Samuel Ramey, Nicolai Ghiaurov, Pietro Cappuccilli, Ruggero Raimondi, Christina Deutekom, Cheryl Strudel. In Italia è stata “ripescata” da Muti e Pizzi al Maggio Musicale Fiorentino all’inizio degli Anni Settanta; Muti e Pizzi ne hanno promosso la diffusione in questi ultimi quaranta anni circa. È un’opera per voci più che per orchestra. Anche nell’Ottocento la critica inglese e francese paragonò alcuni passaggi alla “fanfara dei bersaglieri”, nonostante, nel lavoro, Verdi avesse eliminato la banda (quasi sempre presente in opere precedenti) e limitato il ruolo degli ottoni. Pochi i momenti strumentali descrittivi, pure se la laguna e le alture (con l’incontro tra Attila e Papa Leone) ne fornissero abbondante materia. Domina il melodramma a pezzi “chiusi”, scene con aria cabalette e concertati per dare sfoggio al virtuosismo dei cantanti; la protagonista sarebbe dovuta essere la Giuseppina Strapponi, ma la parte (estremamente ardua) venne ceduta a Sophie Löwe. Poco risorgimentale – a pensarci bene – la vicenda. Da un lato, un tentativo di scambio politico – oggi si parlerebbe di “pateracchio” – tra il generale Ezio che appoggerà Attila nella conquista del resto del mondo se l’Unno gli lascerà l’Italia (che intende unificare). Da un altro, la vicenda di Giuditta ed Oloferne trasportata in pieno medio-evo; la vergine Odabella, con la complicità del fidanzato Foresto, irretisce l’unno o lo ammazza. Nelle interpretazioni moderne, Odabella appare attratta fisicamente ed emotivamente da Attila. Tra Idar Abdrazakov (Attila nella edizione romana) e Giuseppe Gipali (Foresto), poche donne avrebbero esitato a non scegliere il letto del primo. Per di più, il tenore è trattato abbastanza male nella partitura (rispetto al ruolo centrale che ha in altre opere del Verdi trentenne): due arie piuttosto strillate nella seconda parte. Sotto il profilo vocale, Abdrazakov è un Attila pieno di sfumature, dal fraseggio accurato, dagli acuti controllati, dalla discesa elegante in tonalità gravi e dal legato sensuale. Gipali, invece, il 25 maggio non era in una buona serata, specialmente: uso eccessivo del falsetto, troppi “do” di gola nella prima parte, forzature per essere stentoreo nella seconda. Anche nell’agosto 2010, a Macerata, Gipali mi era parso un più schiacciato tra l’Attila fortemente erotico di Nmon Ford e la Odabella sensuale di Maria Agresta. Di grande livello, in questa produzione, Odabella di Tatiana Serjan (un vero soprano drammatico di agilità) e Nicola Aliamo (un Ezio con tutte le doti del buon baritono verdiano). A Muti il merito di rendere musicalmente credibile, questo ineguale pasticcio di un Verdi frettoloso e con l’urgenza di guadagnare per saldare debiti. © Riproduzione Riservata.

Flórez e il ritorno del “belcanto” in Quotidiano Arte 28 maggio

lunedì 28 maggio 2012 Flórez e il ritorno del “belcanto” Giuseppe Pennisi C’è un rinnovato interesse nel "belcanto" (uno stile teso a dimostrare la bravura del cantante che dovrebbe essere in grado di reggere una candela accesa davanti alla bocca e di cantare senza far oscillare la fiamma). Lo mostrano i successi che due differenti tournée di un’opera considerata la quintessenza del belcanto (I Puritani) hanno avuto una nelle maggiori fondazioni liriche e l’altra nei teatri di tradizione, l’annuncio del rilancio (nonostante i tempi di crisi) del Festival Bellini e, soprattutto, il trionfale tour di Juan Diego Flórez che sulla via da Londra a Salisburgo (copre una diecina di importanti città) ha fatto tappa a Roma il 24 maggio, riempiendo la vasta Sala Cecilia del Parco della Musica. Flórez si è esibito in arie poco note (tra cui un delizioso raro “péché de viellesse” rossiniano a carattere patriottico) di autori italiani (Bononcini, Ciampi, Piccinni, Rossini, Donizetti), francesi (Meyerbeer, Gounod, Lalo, Offembach) e spagnoli (Padilla, Garcìa, Sotullo). Su grande insistenza del pubblico, al termine tre bis da Elisir d’Amore, La Fille du Regiment e Rigoletto. Il concerto di Flórez ha permesso di apprezzare le varie sfumature delle differenti scuole del belcanto, un evento raro. È auspicabile che porti ad un CD di qualità. INDIETRO

“ATTILA” A ROMA: UN QUADRO CUPO DELLA POLITICA in Il Velino 26 maggio

OPERA, “ATTILA” A ROMA: UN QUADRO CUPO DELLA POLITICA in il Velino 26 maggio Edizione completa Stampa l'articolo Roma - E’ andato ieri in scena all’Opera di Roma il tanto atteso nuovo“Attila” di Giuseppe Verdi con la direzione musicale di Riccardo Muti e la regia di Pier Luigi Pizzi. L’opera è nella Capitale per due cicli di rappresentazioni, il primo sino al 5 giugno e il secondo a cavallo tra luglio ed agosto. La regia e gran parte degli interpreti non cambiano: Riccardo Muti dirige il primo ciclo, Donato Renzetti il secondo. E’ la quarta volta che questo lavoro composto per La Fenice da un Verdi trentatreenne viene messo in scena dal Teatro dell’Opera di Roma. E’ utile porre nella giusta luce un mito: quello di Verdi in quanto patriota risorgimentale. In prima battuta soltanto cinque delle sue 27 opere (“I Lombardi alla prima crociata”, “Nabucco”, “Ernani”, “La battaglia di Legnano”, e per l’appunto, “Attila”) paiono avere connotazioni “patriottiche” che, in quell’epoca, infiammava molto di più altri compositori dei Paesi europei in cui si compiva l’unità nazionale. Di queste quattro, “Nabucco” vi è entrato di straforo: alla prima nel 1842, venne osannato dalla stampa austro-ungarica come epopea della libertà e della religione (loro) contro la barbarie ed i suoi falsi idoli. “Ernari” è più libertario e rivoluzionario che patriottico; anche per questo piace tanto ad Emma Bonino. Ne “La battaglia di Legnano” predomina l’elemento privato e “guelfo” tanto che fu ben accetta dalla censura papalina proprio mentre si respirava aria dei tumulti che avrebbero portato alla Repubblica Romana mazziniana. I “Lombardi” si inserisce addirittura in un solco anti-ottomano (ove non anti-islamico) a cui, ad esempio, Gioacchino Rossini aveva dedicato ben cinque opere, che oggi verrebbe considerate al limite del razzismo allora alla moda a ragione dell’irredentismo greco. I lavori successivi di Verdi, specialmente quelli che seguirono la trilogia popolare hanno, ben poco di patriottico: “Simon Boccanegra”, “Don Carlo” e “Aida” riguardano la sempre più forte sfiducia nei confronti del potere dello Stato (e “Don Carlo” dello Stato-Nazione); “Un ballo in maschera”, la corruzione del Palazzo; “La forza del destino” il pessimismo cosmico; gli stessi “Vespri siciliani” sfiorano appena i temi dell’unità nazionale e della liberazione dallo straniero e si concentrano sul tema (a Verdi, che non hai avuto figli adulti, carissimo) dell’amore paterno e, di converso, filiale. Inoltre, Verdi amava vivere nella Milano austro-ungarica e costruì la sua villa a ridosso del confine con il gretto e pettegolo Granducato di Parma e Piacenza. Nominato Senatore del Regno, trovò l’incarico noiosissimo. E non ne fece mistero. “Attila” è tratta da uno scombinato libretto del tedesco Zacharias Werner, risistemato, alla peggio, da Temistocle Solera e da Francesco Maria Piave. Arduo pensare che nel 1840 o giù di lì Zacharias Werner si infervorasse per un movimento “italiano” di unità nazionale, che peraltro interessava pochi “illuminati” della stessa politica. Il nodo della vicenda è nello scambio politico tra il generale Ezio che appoggerà Attila nella conquista del resto del mondo se l’unno gli lascerà l’Italia (che intende, forse, unificare o depredare con maxi-tassazione a vantaggio suo non dell’Imperatore che siede a Ravenna). Questo intreccio viene inserito in una riedizione lagunare (siamo ad Aquileia) di Giuditta ed Oloferne; Odabella, con la complicità del fidanzato, irretisce l’unno o lo ammazza. Nell’apparentemente puritana Venezia austro-ungarica (l’opera venne commissionata dalla Fenice dove venne osannata dagli austriaci e dalla aristocrazia) un pizzico di eros ed una scena di letto non andavano niente male. Sotto il profilo musicale è un lavoro ineguale. Rossini (grande linguaccia) parlò “di Verdi con l’elmo in testa”, la critica inglese e francese (dove l’opera approdò in pieno 1848) parlò di “fanfara dei bersaglieri”, non certo un complimento. Pure il benevolo Guglielmo Barblan, nella monumentale “Storia dell’Opera” dalla Utet, scrisse che i “momenti strumentali descrittivi” rimasero “nella testa di Verdi”. Di impianto donizzettiano, presenta, grandi arie (quasi sempre con cabaletta finale), un coro importante e concertati di livello. Dà al basso, al baritono ed al soprano di coloratura modo di dare sfoggio al loro virtuosismo. Il tenore ha un ruolo, tutto sommato, secondario. “Attila” non è affatto risorgimentale ma anticipa altri lavori due Verdi (“Don Carlos” e “Aida” in particolare) su quello che lui stesso chiamava “lo squallore della politica”. Nei 100 minuti in cui si dipanano un prologo e tre atti, tutti tradiscono tutti, tranne il Re degli Unni (e Papa Leone Magno), per potere (quello che Federico De Roberto chiamava “l’imperio) ed un po’ anche per sesso. In breve, il solo innocente è proprio colui rimasto alla storia come “il flagello di Dio”. Ciò spiega bene la regia, scene e costumi di Pier Luigi Pizzi (che si è cimentato più volte con questa opera negli ultimi quaranta anni): un unico ambiente (plasmato sulla Basilica di Massenzio), cupo e claustrofobico, un po’ la cornice di un congresso di partito in cui i capi corrente trattano tutto e di tutto, pur di scalzare il leader. Il Risorgimento è lontano, ma l’Europa di oggi molto vicina. (ilVelino/AGV) (Hans Sachs) 26 Maggio 2012 15:30

Quando il "belcanto" riporta i giovani a Teatro in Il Sussidiario del 26 maggio

OPERA/ Quando il "belcanto" riporta i giovani a Teatro Giuseppe Pennisi sabato 26 maggio 2012 Juan Diego Flórez Approfondisci LA SCALA/ Il "Peter Grimes" di Britten torna a Milano OPERA/ Il "proibito" Re Candaule seduce il Teatro Massimo di Palermo Chi avrebbe mai immaginato che il 24 maggio nella enorme (2.800 posti) Sala Santa Cecilia del Parco della Musica a Roma, ci si sarebbero state ovazioni da stadio al concerto di Juan Diego Flórez, accompagnato da Vincenzo Scalera al pianoforte, il nell’ambito di un trionfale tour che sulla via da Londra a Salisburgo (copre una diecina di importanti città) ha fatto tappa nella capitale. Tanto più che Flórez si è esibito in arie poco note (tra cui un delizioso raro “péché de viellesse” rossiniano a carattere patriottico) di autori italiani (Bononcini, Ciampi, Piccinni, Rossini, Donizetti), francesi (Meyerbeer, Gounod, Lalo, Offembach) e spagnoli (Padilla, Garcìa, Sotullo). Su grande insistenza del pubblico, al termine tre bis da Elisir d’Amore, La Fille du Regiment e Rigoletto. Da qualche anno è in corso un rilancio del “bel canto”. Lo mostrano i successi che due differenti tournée di un’opera considerata la quintessenza del "belcanto" (I Puritani) hanno avuto una nelle maggiori fondazioni liriche e l’altra nei teatri di tradizione, l’annuncio del rilancio (nonostante i tempi di crisi) del Festival Bellini a Taormina e di numerose edizioni di Norma annunciate per questa estate. L’intero Festival di Pentecoste di Salisburgo è dedicato quest’anno al “bel canto”: protagonista assoluta Cecilia Bartoli che ha assunto, dal 2012, la direzione della manifestazione. Ma cosa è il “bel canto”? Non esiste una definizione puntuale, anche se premia la vocalità e utilizza orchestra e orchestrazione a supporto della voce, senza necessariamente “impastarsi” con essa. Spesso – scrive il musicologo H.C. Robbins Laddon – l’orchestrazione finisce per essere trascurata, come indicano, ad esempio, errori nella scrittura per timpani nella stessa “Norma” – “avrebbero spaventato i sensibili orecchi di Haydn e di Mozart”. Si può fare risalire il “belcanto” all’inizio del Settecento e considerarlo, in Italia, in vita sino al melodramma verdiano – nel resto d’’Europa venne spazzato via dalla vera e propria rivoluzione di Wolfgang A. Mozart. In Italia, da Verdi. In una visione più restrittiva lo si accosta all’inizio dell’Ottocento, alla fine delle varie esperienze neo-classiche e all’inizio del romanticismo. non per nulla, Bellini e Rossini vengono visti come i protagonisti del “bel canto”. Un aspetto interessante è che il “belcanto” attira pubblico giovane che pare invece disertare il melodramma e il verismo. La spiegazione è probabilmente nella somiglianza con forme anche moderne di vocalità assoluta in un teatro in musica che trascura forse la verosimiglianza (spesso più o meno assurda) dei libretti, ma parla direttamente al cuore. Juan Diego Flórez, che non ancora 40 anni ma ha avuto il suo primo trionfo nel 1996 e vive a Pesaro, viene visto dalle nuove generazioni come “uno di loro” che sfida con la voce vette ritenute invincibili. Per questo, il “belcanto” è vivo, sta bene ed è tra noi. © Riproduzione Riservata. ________________________________________

A Peter Grimes hanno tolto il mare in Milano Finanza 26 maggio

InScena A Peter Grimes hanno tolto il mare di Giuseppe Pennisi Senza il mare scuro e pieno di gorghi dell'East Anglia Peter Grimes è come I Malavoglia senza le onde che cozzano con la scogliera di Acitrezza. Spostare la vicenda del 1830 ai giorni nostri rende difficile coglierne il cuore. Lo scontro (mortale) di tutto un villaggio contro il «diverso» (non si saprà mai se colpevole o innocente degli omicidi a lui attribuiti) oggi perde di valore perché le diversità sono accettate e non si accusa di omicidio in base a dicerie di taverna. Senza questi due difetti della regia di Richard Jones, il nuovo allestimento di Peter Grimes di Benjamin Britten (alla Scala fino al 7 giugno e poi in vari teatri europei) sarebbe perfetto. Azione scenica e recitazione sono ineccepibili nonostante un involucro (un quartiere popolare di questi anni) poco appropriato. Tanto più che la magistrale direzione musicale di Robin Ticciati (una giovane bacchetta di gran lusso dopo tanti presunti enfant prodige) porta l'oceano dalla buca in scena non solo negli interludi marini (come li definì Britten) ma in tutti e sei i quadri dello spettacolo. Raramente, negli ultimi tempi, dall'orchestra della Scala si è avuta una sonorità così piena e così rotonda e un'attenzione ai tempi così accurata. Perfetto l'equilibrio con il palcoscenico dove John-Graham Hall è un Peter camaleontico anche vocalmente (per la varietà dei registri in cui si impegna), Susan Gritton è una Ellen da manuale (la maestrina vedova che comprende il dramma del pescatore e vorrebbe aiutarlo a uscirne) e Felicity Palmer una Zietta ben calibrata tra caricatura e tragedia. Ottimo il contrappunto dei numerosi comprimari. Di livello, il coro, vero coprotagonista del lavoro. (riproduzione riservata)

PETER GRIMES APPRODA ALLA SCALA in Il Velino 24 maggio

OPERA, PETER GRIMES APPRODA ALLA SCALA Milano - Il lavoro di Benjamin Britten in scena a Milano fino al 7 giugno. L’allestimento è curato da un team interamente britannico. Ottima la squadra degli interpreti ma la regia e l’impianto scenico lasciano perplessi Edizione completa Stampa l'articolo Milano - “Peter Grimes” di Benjamin Britten è un capolavoro assoluto del teatro in musica moderno. Ci sono voluti circa 70 anni perché il Teatro alla Scala ne producesse un’edizione di livello. Non che il pescatore dell’East Anglia non abbia mai attraccato l’ancora nella sala del Piermarini. Nel 1947, dopo i trionfi a Londra ed altrove, ci sono state tre repliche (in lingua italiana) curate da Tullio Serafin; nel 1976 e nel 1980 sono stati importati due spettacoli di ottima qualità rispettivamente dal Covent Garden, il primo, e dalla Los Angeles Opera e dalla Washington National Opera, il secondo. L’allestimento in scena a Milano sino al 7 giugno - e ci si augura venga ripreso da altri teatri italiani e stranieri - è curato da un team interamente britannico: regia di Richard Jones, scene e costumi di Stewart Laing, concertazione di Robin Ticciati e John Graham-Hall, Susan Gritton, Christopher Purves e Felicity Palmer nei ruoli principali. È bene che sia così perché “Peter Grimes”, tratto da una novella inglese del tardo ‘700, con un libretto di Montagu Slater e la musica di Britten, è “British” dall’inizio alla fine, nonostante rappresenti una rivoluzione che nel 1945 ha inciso profondamente sul teatro in musica della seconda metà del Novecento. La vicenda è nota. Nel 1830 o giù di lì, in un piccolo e gretto pettegolo borgo marinaro, il pescatore Peter Grimes è un “diverso” (Britten, ricordiamolo, era omosessuale, cattolico osservante e obiettore di coscienza durante la seconda guerra mondiale). Il suo mozzo muore in mare. Viene assolto dall’accusa di averlo ucciso, ma nel villaggio lo si considera pervertito e sadico. Soltanto la maestra (una vedova) gli dà fiducia e il pescatore spera di avere un futuro con lei. Avviene, però, un secondo incidente: un altro mozzo muore in circostanze difficili da spiegare. A Peter non resta che mettersi sulla propria barca e partire per sempre. Suicidandosi in mare. Mentre al borgo torna la calma perbenista. Questa scarna vicenda di solitudine e incomprensione è arricchita non solo da un testo stringato ed efficace ma da una partitura ricchissima: sei “interludi marini” separano le varie scene e la vocalità alterna declamato con ariosi di grande lirismo e concertati di spessore (sia a quattro voci femminili sia di tutta la compagnia) . Nell’opera Robin Ticciati concerta in modo esemplare. Tiene un ottimo equilibrio tra golfo mistico e palcoscenico. Da tempo non si ascoltavano sonorità di questo livello dall’orchestra della Scala sia negli interludi sia nelle parti strumentali solistiche. Ticciati ricrea l’atmosfera cura e salmastra del borgo marinaro e le tensioni sempre più acute tra il protagonista e (quasi tutti gli altri). Una lettura struggente e commovente che, specialmente nella seconda parte (il secondo ed il terzo atto sono stati eseguiti senza intervallo) ha affascinato il pubblico che è esploso in un’ovazione finale. Ottima la squadra degli interpreti. John Graham-Hall è un tenore camaleontico per l’abilità con cui riesce facilmente a passare da un registro ad un altro. Susan Gritton è un soprano drammatico di qualità. Sorprendente la vocalità di Felicity Palmer a 68 anni. Ottimo Christopher Purves. Buoni tutti gli altri. La regia e l’impianto scenico lasciano però perplessi. In primo luogo, l’azione è spostata dal 1830 ai giorni nostri. Spesso tali “attualizzazioni” sono utili a meglio dare l’afflato universale del lavoro. È difficile, però, oltre che poco politically correct, comprendere il dramma del “diverso” ai tempi nostri e l’odio di tutto il borgo nei suoi confronti. Inoltre, la scena - che utilizza abilmente la tecnologia della Scala - pone l’azione non tra le scogliere ed il grigio mare dell’East Anglia ma in una periferia a metà tra Corviale e Cinisello Balsamo, dove appare quanto meno inconsueto lavorare alle reti per la pesca. (ilVelino/AGV) (Hans Sachs) 24 Maggio 2012 10:44

“Attila” diretto da Muti infuoca Roma in Quotidiano Arte 25 maggio

Debutto questa sera al Teatro dell’Opera di Roma “Attila” diretto da Muti infuoca Roma Giuseppe Pennisi Arriva questa sera al Teatro dell’Opera di Roma “Attila” di Giuseppe Verdi con la direzione musicale di Riccardo Muti e la regia di Pier Luigi Pizzi. È un vero evento che il settore “comunicazione” del Teatro dell’Opera ha preparato con grande cura: seminari con esperti in teatro, incontri con gli studenti in università. Occorre dire che si deve in gran misura a Muti la riscoperta di questo lavoro giovanile di Verdi tratto da uno scombinato libretto del tedesco Zacharias Werner, risistemato, alla men peggio, da Temistocle Solera e da Francesco Maria Piave. Il nodo è nello scambio politico tra il generale Ezio che appoggerà Attila nella conquista del resto del mondo se l’unno gli lascerà l’Italia (che intende unificare), ma questa vicenda viene inserita in una riedizione lagunare (siamo ad Aquileia) di Giuditta ed Oloferne; Odabella, con la complicità del fidanzato, irretisce il Re dei barbari e lo ammazza nel sonno. Sotto il profilo musicale è un lavoro ineguale. Rossini (grande linguaccia) parlò “di Verdi con l’elmo in testa”, la critica inglese e francese (dove l’opera approdò in pieno 1848) parlò di “fanfara dei bersaglieri”; non certo un complimento. Pure il benevolo Guglielmo Barblan, nella monumentale “Storia dell’Opera” dalle Utet, scrisse che i “momenti strumentali descrittivi” rimasero “nella testa di Verdi”. Di impianto donizzettiano, presenta grandi arie (quasi sempre con cabaletta finale), un coro importante e concertati di livello. Dà al basso, al baritono e al soprano di coloratura, modo di dare sfoggio al loro virtuosismo. Il tenore ha un ruolo, tutto sommato, secondario. Nella seconda metà dell’Ottocento, quasi sparì dai repertori. Riapparve negli Anni Cinquanta e Sessanta. Negli Usa, diventò un cavallo di battaglia di Justino Diaz e Beverly Sills. In Europa e in Italia, di Samuel Ramey, Nicolai Ghiaurov, Pietro Cappuccilli, Ruggero Raimondi, Christina Deutekom, Cheryl Struder. L’aria più nota è quella “patriottica” (“Dagli immortali vertici”) di Ezio. La scrittura più innovativa, e più difficile, è l’entrata di Odabella distesa su due ottave con do sovracuto da prendere di forza. Sul podio dell’Orchestra dell’Opera di Roma il Maestro Riccardo Muti, raffinatissimo e intenso interprete di tutto il mondo verdiano. Si deve proprio al Maestro Muti, grazie alle sue numerose direzioni di grande successo dell’Attila, la rinascita dell’interesse internazionale su questo sanguigno e “risorgimentale” dramma lirico. La tormentata discesa di Attila in Italia, che culmina in un sogno premonitore e quindi nella sua morte, ha un nuovo allestimento del Teatro dell’Opera firmato da Pier Luigi Pizzi per la regia, le scene e i costumi. Le luci sono di Vincenzo Raponi, i movimenti coreografici di Roberto Maria Pizzuto. Tra gli interpreti Tatiana Serjan nel ruolo di Odabella, Ildar Abdrazakov nel ruolo di Attila e Nicola Alaimo in quello di Ezio (tre voci già applaudite dal pubblico del Costanzi in Moïse et Pharaon di Rossini e Macbeth di Verdi, sempre sotto la direzione del Maestro Riccardo Muti); Foresto è Jean-François Borras, Uldino è Antonello Ceron, Leone è Luca Dall’Amico. Maestro del Coro del Teatro dell’Opera, Roberto Gabbiani. L’Attila, andato in scena per la prima volta al Teatro La Fenice di Venezia nel 1846, è considerato un archetipo del “melodramma risorgimentale”: dietro il vessillo della riscossa romana contro gli unni invasori, le note impetuose di Verdi infiammarono gli animi del pubblico di allora, con un’opera carica di forza e di passione politiche. INDIETRO