Live from the MET: Simone Boccanegra

Live from the MET : “Simone Boccanegra”
James Levine, conductor
Placido Domingo, baritone, as Simone Boccanegra 
Adrianne Pieczonka, soprano, as Amelia
Marcello Giordani, tenor, as Gabriele Adorno  
James Morris, bass-baritone, as Jacopo Fiesco
Metropolitan Opera, New York, NY
PBS Telecast
June 20, 2010

Placido Domingo - Photo Credit Brent Ness -

All New York’s music lovers, especially those with difficulties getting around, owe a debt of gratitude to Channel 13 for its “Live from Lincoln Center” series: these telecasts are the closest they can get to the concerts and operas they love. The latest “Live from the MET” telecast, taped in February and broadcast on June 20th, presented the new production of Verdi’s “Simone Boccanegra” with Placido Domingo making his debut as a baritone in the title role. Audience expectations ran high, though Domingo has often mentioned that his vocal roots are in the middle register and blossomed into the upper one later. Indeed his voice has always had a remarkably warm, baritonal quality, and, since voices tend to darken with age, he is perhaps merely encouraging a natural vocal development. Nevertheless, after a lifetime as one of the world’s most beloved tenors, taking such a drastic step requires extraordinary courage, and its stunning success makes it an extraordinary achievement.   

Domingo’s decision to undertake his first foray into new territory in this vocally and emotionally challenging, complex role was daring but understandable. As Boccanegra, he has moved from portraying an impulsive, young, romantic tenor (like Gabriele Adorno in “Boccanegra”) to a historical character of his own age and maturity. The real Boccanegra was a famous pirate who was twice elected Doge of Genoa; in the opera, he grows from a frustrated lover determined to prove himself a worthy suitor, to an enlightened statesman determined to bring peace and justice to his people.  

Adrianne Pieczonka, Placido Domingo and Marcello Giordani - Photo Credit Brent Ness

Verdi wrote “Boccanegra” in 1857; it was a failure: audiences found Piave’s libretto confusing, and the long recitatives boring. In 1881, Verdi revised it, like many of his operas; with a lot of new music and a new text by Boito, it was a resounding success, though the libretto still had weaknesses: the characters’ actions and reactions remained baffling and unbelievable, and events predating the drama were sketched so cursorily that audiences cannot possibly grasp them. 

  

The opera takes place in 14th-century Genoa against a background of convoluted political and personal conflicts that generate misunderstandings, belated revelations and eventual tragedy. But Verdi was less interested in affairs of state than affairs of the heart, and dramatized the characters’ relationships with wonderful duets – not only between soprano and tenor in the obligatory love-duets, but also between basses and baritones in confrontations and reconciliations.  

 This is a dark opera, dramatically, visually and musically. After an orchestral prelude, played primarily by the lowest strings and winds, the curtain rises on two basses hatching a plot at night. Fiesco, the leading bass, enters, lamenting his daughter’s death. Then Boccanegra, her lover and the father of their illegitimate child, appears; Fiesco hates him, and, in a passionate duet, rebuffs his plea to resolve their enmity. Fast forward 25 years. Boccanegra discovers his long-lost daughter, Amelia; they rejoice, but he inexplicably insists on keeping their relationship secret; soon after, he learns that she loves Adorno, his political enemy. The central scene is set in the Council Chamber. The Doge is trying to persuade the fractious nobles and plebeians to make peace with each other and with Venice; when a riot breaks out in the street, he quells it by sheer force of personality. Meanwhile, Paolo, a vengeful courtier, pours poison into Boccanegra’s water-jug, initiating what must be one of the longest operatic death-scenes: after staggering around (and frequently falling) while singing incredibly difficult music, Boccanegra finally makes peace with Fiesco in another great duet.  

The production, conducted by James Levine, is most impressive—visually and musically: the scenery is simple and evocative, the orchestra is splendid as usual, though sometimes too subdued when accompanying the singers; the cast is strong. Verdi did not make things easy for the singers: several start off with a big, demanding aria, requiring some warming up. Adrianne Pieczonka is a beautiful but vocally uneven Amelia; James Morris, in excellent voice, is a majestic Fiesco, Stefan Gaertner a baleful Paolo. Marcello Giordani’s Adorno is heroic in more ways than one: it must take courage to share the stage with the singer who owned your role, yet he seemed inspired rather than intimidated. But it was Domingo who, in the best sense, dominated the stage. He inhabited his part completely, radiating a natural authority that seemed to make everyone more confident and secure. Though his top notes are understandably superior to his low ones, his voice is as focused, expressive and intense as ever. Rarely has there been a more triumphant debut.  

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James Levine’s New Baton Technique… and Superhero Status

January 24th, 2010 at Carnegie Hall

James Levine, who just recovered from spinal surgery, has returned to the Metropolitan Opera pit and the concert stage in fine fettle. At his January 24th Carnegie Hall appearance with the MET Orchestra – their second this season – his high-voltage energy, fiery temperament, exuberance, and emotional—as well as mental—concentration were totally unimpaired. However, his conducting technique seemed to have undergone a startling change. Since the musicians, after many years of collaboration, are so attuned to him that they respond to the merest lift of his eyebrows, his motions used to be “close to the vest” and so small as to be invisible to the audience. His rapport with the orchestra is still palpable, but his gestures have now become big and sweeping: he waves his arms in all directions, turning and swaying from side to side. It was very exciting. The program was framed by two of the repertoire’s most popular symphonies: Schubert’s “Unfinished” and Beethoven’s Fifth. Levine seems to have succumbed to the current penchant for extreme dynamic contrasts, from the softest murmur of whispering strings to the most thunderous use of timpani. The opening of the Schubert was nearly inaudible, but otherwise, it was beautifully lyrical and introspective. The Beethoven was extremely dramatic, and the orchestra played splendidly, as always. Levine, in addition to conducting four operas at the Met, is returning to Carnegie Hall for two concerts with the Boston Symphony, plus directing Met Chamber Ensemble Concerts and master classes. The audience gave this intrepid musical superman a hero’s welcome and rewarded him with standing ovations.

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2009 CONCERT SEASON

If there is a general complaint about manyof today’s performers, it is that they reverse the ancient dictum “Nothing to excess” by doingeverything to excess. Tempi keep getting faster, dynamics louder and softer, contrasts more vio­lent; brass and percussion dominate the orches­tral texture and ruin the balance. Nevertheless, there was much to enjoy and admire in this sea­son’s concerts, which honored the anniversaries of Mendelssohn’s birth and Haydn’s death, and also prominently featured Mahler and Brahms; here are some highlights and celebrations.

The year’s biggest news was the passing ofthe baton from Lorin Maazel to Alan Gilbert at the New York Philharmonic. Amid a flurry off are well concerts, Maazel conducted one of his favorite works: Britten’s War Requiem. Despite the excellent performance, the impact of the music seemed to have diminished over the years, but the poetry and the aching memories of the work’s creation are still deeply affecting.

For his tenure’s grand finale, Maazel led amemorable performance of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony. Its monumental length had coher­ence, its massive score remarkable transparency; there was time to savor the lyrical moments and echoes of other works. It was a triumphant farewell, rewarded by an outpouring of respectand appreciation.

The Philharmonic’s Opening Gala included the Premiere of “EXPO,” commissioned from Magnus Lindberg, the Orchestra’s Resident Composer, and an elusive, impressionist cycle of love ­songs by Messiaen, which the wonderful soprano Renée Fleming had learned for the occasion. It was the most ambitious Gala pro­gram ever devised, and immediately demonstrat­ed the adventurousness of Gilbert’s ideas and his ability to carry them out.

The Philadelphia Orchestra under Christoph Eschenbach gave Mahler’s SeventhSymphony a splendid performance, distin­guished by its combination of sweep and atten­tion to detail, its unusual clarity, and especiallits meticulous balance between sections and within the orchestral texture.

Mostly Mozart paid homage to Mendelssohn with his “Italian” Symphony, played very fast under Yannick Nézet ­Séguin; the Violin Concerto, played brilliantly by the golden ­toned Joshua Bell under Music Director Louis Langré, and the first Piano Trio with the fine Trio con Brio. Haydn was honored with symphonies, piano concertos, and the rarelheard Sinfonia Concertante, played splendidl by concertmistress Krista Bennion ­Feeney, cel­list Ilya Finkelsteyn, oboist Randall Ellis, and bassoonist Marc Goldberg. Brahms’ Variationson a Theme by Haydn were also featured, pre­ceded by an impressive performance by Jon Manasse and Jon Nakamatsu of Brahms’ first Clarinet Sonata, and followed by his Fourth  Symphony. Langré closed the Festival with a lovely performance of Haydn’s “Creation,” sunin English, probably for greater accessibility. The “Creation” and “The Seasons were sung in German by the Monteverdi Choir withthe period instrument group Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique under John Eliot Gardiner. The performances were clear, brisk and enthusiastic, but suffered from all the excesses mentioned above; indeed, the pace was so hectic that Gardiner never even paused between movements, and the balance so lop­sided that the strings and the crucial harmoniesin the inner voices were almost obliterated. All four Brahms symphonies were presentedby the Berlin Philharmonic under Simon Rattle, paired with four works by Schoenberg. The combination was supposedly justified by the series’ opening work, Schoenberg’s misguided, blown­up orchestration of Brahms’ first Piano Quartet ­a transcription some chamber musi­cians dislike. The rest of the programs, however,made up for it. Schoenberg’s mono­drama, “Erwartung” (Expectation) was riveting, with soprano Evelyn Herlitzius as a woman who stumbles through a dark forest searching for her faithless lover, only to find his corpse. Reality ornightmare? No one knows. The orchestra was terrific; the soloists were wonderful, the sound was gorgeous. Rattle, deeply involved, alternated between standing still and erupting into violent action; the players, themselves physically very engaged, responded to his slightest motion. The performances were grandly conceived and exe­cuted, but intonation and attacks were often imperfect; the texture was murky, everything was so loud that the climaxes became deafening. All concerts ended with a joyful noise; the audi­ences loved it. Rattle also conducted the Philadelphia Orchestra and Chorale in Berlioz’ “Damnation of Faust.” With mezzo ­soprano Magdalena Kozena, tenor Gregory Kunde, basses Thomas Quasthoff and Eric Owens, the performance was fabulous and captured both the music’s sim­plicity and sophistication.With the New York Philharmonic under Gilbert, Frank Peter Zimmermann gave Brahms’ Violin Concerto a robust, extroverted performance, very prosaic despite many juicy slides. It was paired – again – with Schoenberg: the symphonic poem “Pelleas et Melisande,” anearly, tonal, romantic work; players and conduc­tor reveled in its luxurious, colorful orchestra­tion. The Zukerman Chamber Players, with Zukerman on viola, opened their series with adelightful, heart­warming mostly Brahms pro­gram. It featured his ingratiating first Sextet and the songs for mezzo ­soprano and viola, sung superbly by Michelle DeYoung with pianist Kevin Murphy, along with songs by Dvorak and  Strauss. The Pacifica Quartet, a young but alreadhighly acclaimed group, has taken over the Guarneri Quartet’s residency at the Metropolitan Museum. This requires self ­confi­dence and courage, but perhaps also more intro­spection than was evident at its opening pro­gram. The players’ involvement seemed physical rather than emotional; the playing was compe­tent but too fast and driven for real expressive­ness; the sound was good but unvaried; the cello was under­ balanced. Their Mozart lacked graceand repose, their Brahms depth and passion; they broke up Janácek’s “Intimate Letters” withlong pauses.The Kalichstein ­Laredo ­Robinson Trio gave both Schubert Trios a solid, expressive perform­ance; the Emerson Quartet’s Schubert was disci­plined and polished, but too extroverted; the American Quartet’s “Death and the Maiden” was brilliant, full of drama and anguished plead­ing. Violinist Christian Tetzlaff performed one of his specialties, Bach’s unaccompanied works, in one day ­a remarkable feat. He has recorded them twice, and, claiming that they tell a contin­uous story, always presents them chronological­ly. His interpretation continues to gain depth and freedom; unfortunately, the fast movements also gain speed: the performance left listeners breathless, though marveling at his technical control, his pure, beautiful tone, his clear struc­ture and counterpoint. Two great pianists performed Beethoven’s last three sonatas. Mitsuko Uchida projected dramatic intensity and expressive lyricism; András Schiff, concluding his Beethoven cycle, displayed his usual beautiful singing tone and perfect legato, and gave pristine clarity to usual­ly blurred, muddy passages. James Levine, Music Director of the Boston Symphony (and the Metropolitan Opera), had tocancel several appearances due to a back opera­tion. At Carnegie Hall’s Opening Night, he was replaced by Daniele Gatti; the program included Chopin’s second Piano Concerto with the incomparable Evgeny Kissin and the premiere of John Williams’ Harp Concerto, written forthe Orchestra’s harpist Ann Hobson Pilot. There were also other unusual offerings. Leon Kirchner’s four string quartets were played splendidly by the Orion Quartet, to whom one isdedicated. Zemlinsky’s Lyric Symphony, per­formed by the New York Philharmonic under Neeme Järvi with soprano Hillevi Martinpelto and baritone Thomas Hampson, was very inter­esting. Set to poems by Rabindranath Tagore, it is romantic, tonal but dissonant; the orchestra­tion is kaleidoscopic, but too heavy for the singers.

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