One could almost feel the crackle of energy in the Bijou Theatre from the UT Opera Theatre’s production of Giuseppe Verdi’s La Traviata. There was so much energy and life that one could almost forget that Verdi’s classic heroine, Violetta, was dying of consumption. Whether this is good or bad depends largely on which side of the curtain you are on.
The story of La Traviata, based on the novel La Dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas, fils, revolves around the hypocrisy of mid-19th century European society where “courtesans” like Violetta were privately embraced by the wealthy, while at the same time publicly shunned by polite society.
In this production, directed by UT Opera Theatre Artistic Director Carroll Freeman, the roles of Violetta and her lover, Alfredo, were taken by a split cast of student singers. In the performance I attended, in an almost Buñuel-esque fashion, a different Violetta sang each of the four acts: Catherine Greer, Micke Rickert, Katherine Cardin, and Leslee Poole-Adams. While the real intention of splitting the role was to give opportunities to more singers, the effect of different vocal qualities, physical appearance, and personalities added surreal overtones to otherwise straightforward theatre. Appearing as Violetta’s lover, Alfredo, was the excellent tenor Jonathan Subia. His father, Germont, was sung by the fine solid baritone, John Arnold.
The ensemble of party-goers in Acts I and III sparkled with life, but the parties themselves seemed a bit jumbled and confusing. Individual characters at the parties -- Baron Douphol, Gastone, and the Marquis, for example – were mostly indiscernible amidst the frenetic stage business. Although the singers seemed willing to step out, they always managed to get lost in the crowd. Unfortunately, this may also have been a function of the multi-leveled stepped-platform set which dictated how the crowd could be staged and how they could move. Anything-but-confusing, however, was Mr. Freeman’s intriguing choice to place Act III’s Violetta and Alfredo in the extreme downstage right and left, separating them and their thoughts from the center stage crowd of party-goers.
The value of playing a four act, three hour opera cannot be over-stated for James Fellenbaum’s excellent UT Opera Orchestra. Chock full of talented players, the orchestra learned the importance of “pit stamina,” that quality of mental and physical focus that allows one to play for 3-plus hours without falling prey to fatigue. In the amazing acoustics of the Bijou, pit orchestra volume and balance can be real issues, especially for the balcony audience. Mr. Fellenbaum did an excellent job keeping that in his control.
There was so much to enjoy in this La Traviata, that one can’t help feeling unashamedly optimistic for the future of the UT Opera Theatre program. I, for one, am certainly looking forward to next year’s fare.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Tosca: A Not-So-Shabby Shocker
In the grand tradition of melodrama, the villain was booed (and loudly bravoed) at the curtain call of last weekend’s Knoxville Opera Company production of Giacomo Puccini’s Tosca. Such is one measure of success in theatre -- the audience having been seduced, they happily surrender their inhibitions and enter that world that has been created for them.
Tosca, that “shabby little shocker,” continues to delight audiences, and there was much in this production to delight. While some aspects of the staging and physical production could have diminished the opera’s impact, they were overcome by solid musical performances, by Puccini’s musical eloquence, and by Maestro Brian Salesky’s tight musical direction.
Taking the role of the beautiful, but jealous, Floria Tosca, was soprano Jennifer Harris. Ms. Harris assumed the role when the previously cast Rosemary Musoleno had to withdraw due to illness. Ms. Harris, who is at the beginning of what should be a wonderfully successful career, has a marvelous voice. She possesses vocal strength, range, and that quality that is difficult to teach -- the potential to act with her voice. Her Act II aria “Vissi d’arte” was an example of this ability. She did seem to gloss over diction in some of her extreme high phrases, but time remedies all.
Perhaps one of the best performances of the villainous Scarpia that this reviewer has seen came from bass-baritone Daniel Sumegi, who was making his KOC debut. Mr. Sumegi was quite dominating in both dramatic and vocal performance. His stage presence is so strong that he doesn’t really have to act with his voice, but he is a special force to be reckoned with when he does. For that reason, it would be interesting to hear Mr. Sumegi in Strauss or Wagner.
Tenor Thomas Studebaker was an excellent and sympathetic Cavaradossi. His chemistry with Ms. Harris gave the love affair substance and believability. Two Act I roles of note were Daniel Berry as the prison escapee Angelotti and Michael Wanko as the Sacristan. Mr. Berry is, of course, well known to the classical radio listeners of WUOT, where he is program director and morning host. Opera seems to be full of bumbling church characters; Mr. Wanko gave his Sacristan a very nice blend of comedic religious obligation and disapproval backed up with a really fine bass voice.
It is the physical production that puts theatre into opera. Unfortunately, there were some aspects of Tosca's visual and dramatic components that were disappointing. The stage direction of David Bamberger, while serviceable, was somewhat wooden in terms of stage movement and arrangement. This seemed to leave the performers to their own devices. While this may work for the stage veterans, a young performer, such as Ms. Harris, could have used more help in movement and in dramatically motivating and constructing the role. I lay this responsibility squarely on the stage director, who also seemed content to plant Tosca and Cavaradossi concert-style for some of their duets. As another oddity, staging the Act III Shepherd Boy (Lyndon England) in front of a cloud projected scrim was puzzling to many audience members, as well as this reviewer.
Opera, being musical theatre, has special needs in terms of dramatic support for the characters – and lighting design is an absolutely essential part of that support. The lighting by John Horner, while effective at establishing the brief curtain-rise mood for the scenes, fell short in terms of overall dramatic support. Perhaps preferring safe to sorry, Mr. Horner felt obligated to overlight the characters and the acting space for the bulk of the scenes. In the Act II study of Baron Scarpia in particular, this seriously diminished both the ominous atmosphere and the dramatic tension. Had the scene been more appropriately sculpted and motivated, it would have been much more terrifying and shocking than it was.
Tosca's main themes of abuse of political power and sexual violence were hauntingly present in this production thanks mainly to Mr. Sumegi’s Scarpia. But it is the drama (dare I say melodrama) of Puccini’s far-from-shabby vocal and orchestral score that sends the audience into the night with an experience that doesn’t easily fade.
Tosca, that “shabby little shocker,” continues to delight audiences, and there was much in this production to delight. While some aspects of the staging and physical production could have diminished the opera’s impact, they were overcome by solid musical performances, by Puccini’s musical eloquence, and by Maestro Brian Salesky’s tight musical direction.
Taking the role of the beautiful, but jealous, Floria Tosca, was soprano Jennifer Harris. Ms. Harris assumed the role when the previously cast Rosemary Musoleno had to withdraw due to illness. Ms. Harris, who is at the beginning of what should be a wonderfully successful career, has a marvelous voice. She possesses vocal strength, range, and that quality that is difficult to teach -- the potential to act with her voice. Her Act II aria “Vissi d’arte” was an example of this ability. She did seem to gloss over diction in some of her extreme high phrases, but time remedies all.
Perhaps one of the best performances of the villainous Scarpia that this reviewer has seen came from bass-baritone Daniel Sumegi, who was making his KOC debut. Mr. Sumegi was quite dominating in both dramatic and vocal performance. His stage presence is so strong that he doesn’t really have to act with his voice, but he is a special force to be reckoned with when he does. For that reason, it would be interesting to hear Mr. Sumegi in Strauss or Wagner.
Tenor Thomas Studebaker was an excellent and sympathetic Cavaradossi. His chemistry with Ms. Harris gave the love affair substance and believability. Two Act I roles of note were Daniel Berry as the prison escapee Angelotti and Michael Wanko as the Sacristan. Mr. Berry is, of course, well known to the classical radio listeners of WUOT, where he is program director and morning host. Opera seems to be full of bumbling church characters; Mr. Wanko gave his Sacristan a very nice blend of comedic religious obligation and disapproval backed up with a really fine bass voice.
It is the physical production that puts theatre into opera. Unfortunately, there were some aspects of Tosca's visual and dramatic components that were disappointing. The stage direction of David Bamberger, while serviceable, was somewhat wooden in terms of stage movement and arrangement. This seemed to leave the performers to their own devices. While this may work for the stage veterans, a young performer, such as Ms. Harris, could have used more help in movement and in dramatically motivating and constructing the role. I lay this responsibility squarely on the stage director, who also seemed content to plant Tosca and Cavaradossi concert-style for some of their duets. As another oddity, staging the Act III Shepherd Boy (Lyndon England) in front of a cloud projected scrim was puzzling to many audience members, as well as this reviewer.
Opera, being musical theatre, has special needs in terms of dramatic support for the characters – and lighting design is an absolutely essential part of that support. The lighting by John Horner, while effective at establishing the brief curtain-rise mood for the scenes, fell short in terms of overall dramatic support. Perhaps preferring safe to sorry, Mr. Horner felt obligated to overlight the characters and the acting space for the bulk of the scenes. In the Act II study of Baron Scarpia in particular, this seriously diminished both the ominous atmosphere and the dramatic tension. Had the scene been more appropriately sculpted and motivated, it would have been much more terrifying and shocking than it was.
Tosca's main themes of abuse of political power and sexual violence were hauntingly present in this production thanks mainly to Mr. Sumegi’s Scarpia. But it is the drama (dare I say melodrama) of Puccini’s far-from-shabby vocal and orchestral score that sends the audience into the night with an experience that doesn’t easily fade.
Monday, April 14, 2008
UT Music: All-Handel
George Frideric Handel can be deceptively difficult. I say this as one who, in past choral days, was tortured mercilessly by Zadok the Priest. An all-Handel concert, then, can be an indicator of the performance level for a university music program, both in orchestral playing and choral performance. An April Sunday afternoon concert by the University of Tennessee Chamber Orchestra and combined choirs of the UT Chamber Singers and UT Concert Choir proved to be just that.
Conducted by retiring director of choral activities, David Stutzenberger, the forces took on Handel’s Coronation Anthem No. 4 (My Heart is Inditing); the Concerto Grosso in B Minor, Op. 6, No. 12; and the Dettingen Te Deum, HWV 283. The problem in commenting on a concert such as this is where to set the performance bar. For indeed, that bar has gone up nicely in the last few years.
My Heart is Inditing, one of four anthems written for the Coronation of King George II and the Queen consort Caroline in 1727, was performed late in the service at the point of the crowning of the Queen. Probably for that reason, it opens with a genteel Andante, rather than a ceremonially pompous fanfare. As befitting a delicate and refined quality, it opens with soloists, or in this concert, a group of singers on each part before the full choir enters. The second and third sections are interesting for the choir in that they employ rhythms (and require good choral diction) to the words “King’s daughters” and “and the King shall have pleasure…in thy beauty.” The brisk closing Allegro begins with a workout for the strings, followed by the chorus, and then – at last! – the trumpets, nicely played, with the expected pomp to close a ceremonial anthem.
The anthem was followed by the last of Handel’s Concerti Grossi of Opus 6, No. 12 in B Minor. The concertino soloists were Peter Aguilar and Rachel Grubb, violins, and Deborah Shields, cello. The concerto, conductor-less, was played solidly at a manageable, but not overly brisk, tempo. Tempo can be an issue with Baroque concerti such as this one – too slow a tempo and they become leaden and heavy – too fast and … well, you know.
The second half of the concert was devoted to Handel’s Dettingen Te Deum. While not a Te Deum in the religious sense, the work was written to commemorate the British and Austrian victory over the French at Dettingen in 1743. It consists of 18 solos and choruses, the soloists being altos, baritones, and basses. The chorus and orchestra did an excellent job, but again, tempo is important, particularly in the longer choral works such as this.
It is my feeling that there is a bit of the theatrical Handel in everything he wrote, even his religious and ceremonial works. It is this theatrical spark – Handel’s stylistic pulse -- in tempo, in phrasing, in general orchestral balance – that defines Handel’s style and makes his works exciting for contemporary audiences.
Conducted by retiring director of choral activities, David Stutzenberger, the forces took on Handel’s Coronation Anthem No. 4 (My Heart is Inditing); the Concerto Grosso in B Minor, Op. 6, No. 12; and the Dettingen Te Deum, HWV 283. The problem in commenting on a concert such as this is where to set the performance bar. For indeed, that bar has gone up nicely in the last few years.
My Heart is Inditing, one of four anthems written for the Coronation of King George II and the Queen consort Caroline in 1727, was performed late in the service at the point of the crowning of the Queen. Probably for that reason, it opens with a genteel Andante, rather than a ceremonially pompous fanfare. As befitting a delicate and refined quality, it opens with soloists, or in this concert, a group of singers on each part before the full choir enters. The second and third sections are interesting for the choir in that they employ rhythms (and require good choral diction) to the words “King’s daughters” and “and the King shall have pleasure…in thy beauty.” The brisk closing Allegro begins with a workout for the strings, followed by the chorus, and then – at last! – the trumpets, nicely played, with the expected pomp to close a ceremonial anthem.
The anthem was followed by the last of Handel’s Concerti Grossi of Opus 6, No. 12 in B Minor. The concertino soloists were Peter Aguilar and Rachel Grubb, violins, and Deborah Shields, cello. The concerto, conductor-less, was played solidly at a manageable, but not overly brisk, tempo. Tempo can be an issue with Baroque concerti such as this one – too slow a tempo and they become leaden and heavy – too fast and … well, you know.
The second half of the concert was devoted to Handel’s Dettingen Te Deum. While not a Te Deum in the religious sense, the work was written to commemorate the British and Austrian victory over the French at Dettingen in 1743. It consists of 18 solos and choruses, the soloists being altos, baritones, and basses. The chorus and orchestra did an excellent job, but again, tempo is important, particularly in the longer choral works such as this.
It is my feeling that there is a bit of the theatrical Handel in everything he wrote, even his religious and ceremonial works. It is this theatrical spark – Handel’s stylistic pulse -- in tempo, in phrasing, in general orchestral balance – that defines Handel’s style and makes his works exciting for contemporary audiences.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Lukas, Lucas, and Wolfgang
Despite the presence of one of the most brilliant and classic symphonies of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart on the bill for last weekend’s Knoxville Symphony Orchestra concerts, all audience eyes and ears seemed to be focused on a work by KSO Music Director and Conductor Lucas Richman. Richman’s Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra (subtitled The Clearing ) was commissioned by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in 2004 to thank him for his service as a staff conductor and to showcase the considerable talents of its principal oboist, Cynthia DeAlmeida.
This was the first Knoxville performance of Richman’s concerto by the KSO and featured Ms. DeAlmeida as guest soloist. The work is structured programmatically around the Hebrew text of Psalm 23, with the lilting cadences becoming the basis for the oboe’s solo voice. There was no doubt that Richman’s time with the PSO gave him the knowledge of DeAlmeida’s strengths – strengths that include an articulated, yet luminous and gorgeous tone – to use as that solo voice of the concerto.
However beautiful the voice, the test of programmatic music comes in how extensively the audience must be “pre-informed” in order to completely believe the composer’s intention. I must admit to feeling rather disconnected during the orchestra-only sections, somewhat like experiencing a film blindfolded. While it was certainly possible to enjoy the orchestral sections in the absolute sense, it was the beautiful oboe voice, the centerpiece, that prevented the concerto from drifting slightly toward the esoteric.
Maestro Richman opened the concert with the Salomon Rossi Suite by contemporary German-born American composer Lukas Foss. Foss used themes by Salomon Rossi, a 17th century Mantuan particularly known for his Hebrew liturgical works. This piece, in six short movements, is a contemporary orchestral impression of Rossi’s Renaissance sound. While short in length, the suite gave many different KSO orchestral players some visibility – antiphonal passages for the brass; an impression of the Renaissance lute and drum using the modern harp and pedaled tympani; a beautiful Lento for strings; and a cheerful and driving Renaissance-like fugue for the finale.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 in C Major, K. 551 (“Jupiter”) concluded the evening. The symphony’s nickname, “Jupiter,” while not Mozart’s inscription but probably from a music publisher, does imply a grand, god-like connection. Admittedly, it is grander and more open than his previous symphonies. But the symphony’s reputation rests on its brilliant construction that builds to an amazing contrapuntal finale.
One problem surrounding its stature is that because this symphony has been so extensively performed and recorded over the years it is almost impossible not to have stubborn ideas of how it should sound in terms of tempo and phrasing. However, performance styles are not absolute. They have evolved in several phases: as orchestras became larger, as 19th century romanticism took hold, and eventually, as sound recording impacted the concert hall. My own impression was that this performance lacked crispness in phrasing that could have been solved with a brisker tempo.
Keeping that in mind, the KSO will offer a repeat performance of the “Jupiter” at this Sunday’s Chamber Music Series Concert at the Bijou. In this case, the string sections will decrease in size and the orchestra as a whole will appear more like an 18th century orchestra. If size unconsciously impacts tempo, it will be interesting to judge the differences.
Also on that same Chamber Series program will be Mozart’s Quartet in G Minor for Piano and Strings, K. 478. Maestro Richman will himself be at the piano. Completing the quartet is violinist and KSO concertmaster Mark Zelmanovich; Kathryn Gawne, violist; and Andy Bryenton, cellist. This quartet is one of contrasts that can test the emotional flexibility of its players. The key of G minor places the quartet in a dark and somber place, but one that, hopefully, has warmth and a lyrical quality. In contrast to the dark opening Allegro, the concluding Rondo movement is delightfully playful and optimistic.
This was the first Knoxville performance of Richman’s concerto by the KSO and featured Ms. DeAlmeida as guest soloist. The work is structured programmatically around the Hebrew text of Psalm 23, with the lilting cadences becoming the basis for the oboe’s solo voice. There was no doubt that Richman’s time with the PSO gave him the knowledge of DeAlmeida’s strengths – strengths that include an articulated, yet luminous and gorgeous tone – to use as that solo voice of the concerto.
However beautiful the voice, the test of programmatic music comes in how extensively the audience must be “pre-informed” in order to completely believe the composer’s intention. I must admit to feeling rather disconnected during the orchestra-only sections, somewhat like experiencing a film blindfolded. While it was certainly possible to enjoy the orchestral sections in the absolute sense, it was the beautiful oboe voice, the centerpiece, that prevented the concerto from drifting slightly toward the esoteric.
Maestro Richman opened the concert with the Salomon Rossi Suite by contemporary German-born American composer Lukas Foss. Foss used themes by Salomon Rossi, a 17th century Mantuan particularly known for his Hebrew liturgical works. This piece, in six short movements, is a contemporary orchestral impression of Rossi’s Renaissance sound. While short in length, the suite gave many different KSO orchestral players some visibility – antiphonal passages for the brass; an impression of the Renaissance lute and drum using the modern harp and pedaled tympani; a beautiful Lento for strings; and a cheerful and driving Renaissance-like fugue for the finale.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 in C Major, K. 551 (“Jupiter”) concluded the evening. The symphony’s nickname, “Jupiter,” while not Mozart’s inscription but probably from a music publisher, does imply a grand, god-like connection. Admittedly, it is grander and more open than his previous symphonies. But the symphony’s reputation rests on its brilliant construction that builds to an amazing contrapuntal finale.
One problem surrounding its stature is that because this symphony has been so extensively performed and recorded over the years it is almost impossible not to have stubborn ideas of how it should sound in terms of tempo and phrasing. However, performance styles are not absolute. They have evolved in several phases: as orchestras became larger, as 19th century romanticism took hold, and eventually, as sound recording impacted the concert hall. My own impression was that this performance lacked crispness in phrasing that could have been solved with a brisker tempo.
Keeping that in mind, the KSO will offer a repeat performance of the “Jupiter” at this Sunday’s Chamber Music Series Concert at the Bijou. In this case, the string sections will decrease in size and the orchestra as a whole will appear more like an 18th century orchestra. If size unconsciously impacts tempo, it will be interesting to judge the differences.
Also on that same Chamber Series program will be Mozart’s Quartet in G Minor for Piano and Strings, K. 478. Maestro Richman will himself be at the piano. Completing the quartet is violinist and KSO concertmaster Mark Zelmanovich; Kathryn Gawne, violist; and Andy Bryenton, cellist. This quartet is one of contrasts that can test the emotional flexibility of its players. The key of G minor places the quartet in a dark and somber place, but one that, hopefully, has warmth and a lyrical quality. In contrast to the dark opening Allegro, the concluding Rondo movement is delightfully playful and optimistic.
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