Nov. 18th, 2009 11:09 am
Il fanculo del West
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muckefuckErnani was glorious. A riot of overripe melodrama or, in other words, everything you could hope for from an early Verdi adaption of an early Hugo play. Nuphy pronounced it "the best opera we've seen so far this season" before I gently reminded him that we've only seen one other opera so far this season (and Gounod got nothin' on Joe Green).
You want your plot, we got plot. Have you ever asked yourself what Romeo and Juliet would be like if there were more than one Romeo? How about three of 'em? Oh, and let's make them all nobility--one of them royalty and one incognito as a bandit. And let's make the last guy her uncle. Okay, that should do. It was also one of the single best illustrations of the adage (which I first heard from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
princeofcairo) "Every story has a happy ending, it's just a question of where you end the story". You could've left at the end of Act 3 when everything was happy as Figaro and been none the wiser, though perhaps a bit puzzled why all that business with the "corno di suicidio" (as we clept it) was included.
But it would've been a shame to do so because the final trio was quite powerful, even if it wasn't the one Nuphy had been looking forward to. All the principals were strong, though if I had to pick a weak link, it would be Boaz Daniel as the young Carlos Quinto. Licitra, our Hernani, took his first aria to get warmed up--the voice was there, but he needed to get the upper hand of it. Same goes for Sondra Radvanovsky--or was it just that the devilish passages of Elvira's first scene defeated her? Nuphy explained that there's no soprano alive who can do the tricky coloratura passages justice. (As soon as I got home, I listened to the superior Rosa Ponselle version he referred to and was stunned.)
The best news of the night, of course, was that Sir Andrew was sitting this one out. If you went into a salonful of conductors and just started swinging a ten-foot pole, you'd be hard-pressed to hit someone who would be worse choice to conduct Verdi than Davis. The massive relief turned to joy when we saw that our man Palumbo was an Italian, and ecstasy when we heard what he could coax from the orchestra: Not a false note the entire evening.
When the curtain first went up over the bandit camp, I worried that this would be the Lyric's penny-pincher for the season. But that was dispelled by the richness of Silva's palace in Scene 2. The only misstep was the flooring (which my vantage point in the upper balcony gives me more cause to appreciate than most attendees). I loved the huge star-shaped faux-hardwood inlay in the centre, but it clashed oddly with the wall placement required to create the impression of a foyer; it wasn't until later scenes in a ballroom and a mausoleum that it justified its presence.
Speaking of which, my one regret of the evening is that I couldn't seebunj's face when Carlo announced that he was in the tomb of Charlemagne. "Isn't that in Aachen?" whispered Nuphy. Um, that's apparently where we are. Frankly, the libretto leaves something to be desired when it comes to scene transitions; the leap from Act 1 (when Ernani and Elvira seem about to leg it) to Act 2 (when he has to disguise himself as a priest to sneak back into her presence) is particularly confusing.
Nuphy was enthusiastic about the blocking and I have to admit that my quibbles with it (mainly with Carlo's inane pacing in Elvira's chamber) are even more minor than usual. But what particularly impressed me was the lighting. Striding across her betrothed's hall in Act 2, Elvira looks like a catrina made flesh (as it were). And Act 4 is worth hanging around for for the sumptuous beauty of the set design alone.
This is Lyric, so don't expect anything adventurous from the staging. At the first intermission, we discussed possible updatings; at first everyone insisted that nothing short of period faithfulness could contain this much melodrama without bursting, butbunj eventually came around when he struck on the idea of setting it in the Wild West. And yes, I did say "first intermission". Why the orchestra suddenly can't get through two hours of playing without taking fifty minutes off is beyond me, but it's growing ever more tedious.
You want your plot, we got plot. Have you ever asked yourself what Romeo and Juliet would be like if there were more than one Romeo? How about three of 'em? Oh, and let's make them all nobility--one of them royalty and one incognito as a bandit. And let's make the last guy her uncle. Okay, that should do. It was also one of the single best illustrations of the adage (which I first heard from
princeofcairo) "Every story has a happy ending, it's just a question of where you end the story". You could've left at the end of Act 3 when everything was happy as Figaro and been none the wiser, though perhaps a bit puzzled why all that business with the "corno di suicidio" (as we clept it) was included.But it would've been a shame to do so because the final trio was quite powerful, even if it wasn't the one Nuphy had been looking forward to. All the principals were strong, though if I had to pick a weak link, it would be Boaz Daniel as the young Carlos Quinto. Licitra, our Hernani, took his first aria to get warmed up--the voice was there, but he needed to get the upper hand of it. Same goes for Sondra Radvanovsky--or was it just that the devilish passages of Elvira's first scene defeated her? Nuphy explained that there's no soprano alive who can do the tricky coloratura passages justice. (As soon as I got home, I listened to the superior Rosa Ponselle version he referred to and was stunned.)
The best news of the night, of course, was that Sir Andrew was sitting this one out. If you went into a salonful of conductors and just started swinging a ten-foot pole, you'd be hard-pressed to hit someone who would be worse choice to conduct Verdi than Davis. The massive relief turned to joy when we saw that our man Palumbo was an Italian, and ecstasy when we heard what he could coax from the orchestra: Not a false note the entire evening.
When the curtain first went up over the bandit camp, I worried that this would be the Lyric's penny-pincher for the season. But that was dispelled by the richness of Silva's palace in Scene 2. The only misstep was the flooring (which my vantage point in the upper balcony gives me more cause to appreciate than most attendees). I loved the huge star-shaped faux-hardwood inlay in the centre, but it clashed oddly with the wall placement required to create the impression of a foyer; it wasn't until later scenes in a ballroom and a mausoleum that it justified its presence.
Speaking of which, my one regret of the evening is that I couldn't see
bunj's face when Carlo announced that he was in the tomb of Charlemagne. "Isn't that in Aachen?" whispered Nuphy. Um, that's apparently where we are. Frankly, the libretto leaves something to be desired when it comes to scene transitions; the leap from Act 1 (when Ernani and Elvira seem about to leg it) to Act 2 (when he has to disguise himself as a priest to sneak back into her presence) is particularly confusing.Nuphy was enthusiastic about the blocking and I have to admit that my quibbles with it (mainly with Carlo's inane pacing in Elvira's chamber) are even more minor than usual. But what particularly impressed me was the lighting. Striding across her betrothed's hall in Act 2, Elvira looks like a catrina made flesh (as it were). And Act 4 is worth hanging around for for the sumptuous beauty of the set design alone.
This is Lyric, so don't expect anything adventurous from the staging. At the first intermission, we discussed possible updatings; at first everyone insisted that nothing short of period faithfulness could contain this much melodrama without bursting, but
bunj eventually came around when he struck on the idea of setting it in the Wild West. And yes, I did say "first intermission". Why the orchestra suddenly can't get through two hours of playing without taking fifty minutes off is beyond me, but it's growing ever more tedious.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not the orchestra; the singers.
no subject
no subject
This opera goes to eleven
Also, holy shit, you were not kidding about Rosa Ponselle! That was amazing!
When I first saw that floor, I figured we would see more of it in the subsequent scenes (-e mentioned that she'd love to make a quilt with that design). I was amused by how much Aragon (and Aachen) looked like Granada, but I guess they wanted something that said "Spain".
no subject
bah. Charlemagne, like Arthur, is everywhere. Sure they have a tomb in Aachen, and maybe even some bones inside it, but I say to you - and I'm sure Verdi would agree - you are Charlemagne.
no subject
Like I said above, this opera goes to eleven. All quibbling aside, the set designer knew this opera was, in the words of the conductor, "more about the heart than the intellect," and didn't worry so much accuracy with the tomb.