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A bit of Ballo History

19 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by singlikenooneswatching in Uncategorized

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So what’s all this King of Sweden/ Governor of Boston business about?  Which is Riccardo?

Well, the truth is, both and neither.

When Verdi set about writing the opera it looked like a reasonably simple task.  The librettist – Antonio Somma – would take a previous French libretto, by a chap called Eugene Scribe – for an 1833 Aubers opera, Gustave III, ou ball masque – translate and re-write it a bit, and hey-presto, Verdi could get cracking.

Sadly, it didn’t work out that way.  Gustave III tells pretty much exactly the same tale as Un Ballo in Maschera, except the main character is Gustave, King of Sweden, who was assassinated in 1792.  Somma even retained the fictional characters that Scribe wrote into the libretto for Gustave – Amelie (Amelia) and Oscar – as well as the factual ones, Ulrica, Anckarstrom and Gustave. So why bother relocating the whole thing to Boston?  The answer: censorship.

When Somma’s translated and fiddled Gustave III was presented to the Naples censors in 1857 they rejected it.  It was out of the question to show a monarch on the stage, and particularly a monarch being assassinated. So it was back to the drawing board.

Somma set about relocating the whole thing in Germany, Gustave became the Duke of Pomerania, the assassin Anckarstrom became Count Renato, and the opera’s name changed to Un Vendetta in Domino.

This new version of the opera which Verdi had basically completed, (he was busy with the full score orchestration) was presented to the Naples censor again in 1858.  The slight problem was, three Italians had just attempted to assassinate Napoleon III in Paris.

Again, the opera was rejected by the censor. Now Verdi lost his cool.  Breaking his contract with the San Carlo in Naples, he returned home and gave up on the whole thing.  This led to a big old legal battle and mud-slinging contest between Verdi and the San Carlo.

When this was finally sorted, Verdi took his opera to Rome, it was Gustave III again; all the names changed back. The censor did not approve.  Finally, it was agreed that the setting would change to North America during colonial times.  This was far enough away in time and location for the current political hotbed that was Europe.

And this is where we find Un Ballo in Maschera – Riccardo is The Earl of Warwick and Governor of Colonial Boston.  And yet, there is nothing remotely American about the score or the feel of the opera.  In everything but a few stage directions and in name Un Ballo in Maschera, is the Italian version of Scribe’s Gustave III.  

Donizetti & Elisir- Master of the Bel Canto

14 Friday Nov 2014

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A little but about Donizetti (29 November 1797 – 8 April 1848), Bel Canto and Elisir.

Donizetti’s operas, Elisir included, are written in what is known as a Bel Canto style. Bel Canto roughly translates as “Beautiful Singing” and was the operatic writing style of the age (the first half of the nineteenth century).  Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti are it’s best known proponents.  Listening to a few of their operas will give you some idea of what it is all about, but here are some very famous examples; the first is from Donizetti’s later opera, Lucia di Lammermoor, and the second comes from Rossini’s Barber of Seville…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYm7oJXVeks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuEmJZzuG9U

It’s a style of singing more than anything, but the works of these composers live and die with it.  It’s characterised by all those light airy runs and jumps, it is music that sounds as though it is shimmering.  For a singer it’s the idea of a very tiny, very clean, crisp and flexible sound that pings over the orchestra.  It’s the antithesis of Wagnerian or Puccini singing in many ways (though they grew out of it and are indebted to it). Many (if not most) vocal teachers still see it as the backbone of good singing, especially in Italy.

So what was Bel Canto in it’s day? Well, it was the equivalent of our pop music, or the most famous musical theatre of the mid-nineteen-hundreds. It was incredibly popular and the best singers became stars, along with its best composers.  Donizetti became a musical superstar.

He had it all – comedy in bag loads, Elisir, Don Pasquale etc. and fantastic and glorious tragedies, Lucia di Lammermoor, Maria Stuarda…

L’elisir d’amore was composed in 1832. Smack bang in the middle of Donizetti’s oeuvre.  So by this time he was a pretty mature artist, but some of his greatest works were yet to come. It was also the product of a great collaboration.  Donizetti and the librettist Felice Romani worked extremely well together, Elisir was their seventh opera as an item, and Romani had helped Donizetti get his first big hit, Anna Bolena.

Highly entertaining, composed by the man of the hour, and with one of the most beautiful tenor arias ever written, Elisir bound to go down a storm.

Which is not to say that Donizetti was without his concerns.  He apparently commented “it bodes well that we have a German prima donna, a tenor who stammers, a buffo who has a voice like a goat, and a French basso who isn’t up to doing much.”

The opera itself takes several of the ideas of Opera Buffa – early operas that were more like pantomimes and made use of often quite mean spirited stock characters – and reimagines them.

Elisir’s characters are not two dimensional. Despite their cartoonish qualities and pointed names* they are genuine and all have the ability to change and show different personality traits, even the bawdy Dulcamara and the self-loving Belcore have soft moments – Dulcamara’s chats with Adina, Belcore’s pondering when Adina won’t sign the marriage contract.

Ostensibly a comic riot, the opera is full of light and shade.  These nuances are what distinguish Bel Canto comedies from their pre-Mozart Italian predecessors (Pergolesi etc.).  In a way it is almost impossible to see how they could not be more subtle.  Even in rip-roaring comedy Bel Canto music constantly strives towards beauty, flow and perfection.

* Adina – Hebrew for refined, Belcore – from the Italian ‘beautiful heart’, Dulcamara – ‘sweet sour’ in Italian and Nemorino – ‘little nobody’ in Latin…all names that both sum up the characters, but also are undermined by their actions in some way.

L’elisir d’amore – 18th November – 13th December at the ROH

11 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by singlikenooneswatching in Royal Opera House, Uncategorized

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Ah yes, L’elisir d’amore – Donizetti’s homage to the booze.

Adina is beautiful, successful and strong willed, Nemorino is a little slow, a bit wet and poor to boot – so operatically speaking, they are a perfect match.  Nemorino adores the land owner Adina (and tells her so, a lot…), Adina is, to put it mildly not interested.

Hapless Nemorino overhears her reading the story of Tristan and Isolde to her workers one day and becomes fixated on the idea of a love potion.  If he had a bit of that he could certainly win the girl.  Unfortunately he hasn’t cottoned on to the fact that love potions don’t actually exist.

Anyway, this story needs a rival, roll up, Belcore.  He fancies himself more than anyone else probably ever will, is a sergeant in the army and, of course, decides to court Adina while the whole village look on.  He and Nemorino are chalk and cheese.

Feeling anxious, Nemorino declares his undying love for Adina in a moment alone. She laughs it off, telling him that she intends to love someone new every day and that if he wants to be happy he should do likewise.

Cue the arrival of a travelling quack doctor and salesman extraordinaire.  Dulcamara is selling his ‘cure-for-all’ elixir, and boy is he good at it…

Soon he’s nearly sold out.  But, as he’s about to do a runner (before the whole town realise he’s sold them cheap wine) Nemorino corners him.  Nemorino enquires humbly whether the salesman has any of Isolde’s love potion.  Dulcamara has no idea what he’s on about, but persuades him to part with all his savings for a bottle of the same stuff he has sold everyone else – cheap wine.  He is careful to tell our idiot hero that it will take a good 24 hours to have effect (by which time the salesman will be long gone!).

Nemorino downs it, and, when Adina comes in, he feels bold and, quite frankly, a bit arrogant (he’s drunk).  Adina, used to being the centre of attention and annoyed with this oaf, promises to marry Belcore.  The wedding is to be in six days time.  Nemorino laughs, thinking that all he needs is one day and Adina will be his.

Suddenly, (surprise, surprise!) Belcore is told his regiment must leave the next day. Adina metaphorically sticks her tongue out at Nemorino even further and promises to marry the sergeant that very evening.  Nemorino is dumbfounded and cries for Dulcamara to return and help him, for otherwise all is lost.

Act Two begins in a nuptial mood, the wedding party is all go, and Dulcamara, probably drunk on far better wine than that he sells, urges Adina to sing a duet with him about a senator chatting up a boat woman called Nina…

It’s time to go and sign the wedding contract, but Adina cannot stand that Nemorino hasn’t even turned up at the wedding, she is only going through with it all to teach him a lesson, and is now wondering why she bothered.  Everyone leaves to sign the contract but Dulcamara remains to take full advantage of a free dinner.  In comes Nemorino in a terrible state.  He begs Dulcamara for a fast-acting potion, but, upon finding out Nermorino is penniless, Dulcamara leaves in huff.

If only Nemorino could find cash…but where?  Belcore comes stomping in, Adina has become stroppy and refused to sign the marriage contract, and he has no idea why.  When he finds out the cause of his rival Nemorino’s upset he convinces him that the best way to get some money is to join the army…

Knowing (or thinking he knows) that it is his only chance of winning Adina, Nemorino signs up.  Belcore, meanwhile, is baffled that he has managed to dispatch of his rival so easily.

Now comes a sudden twist. The two men have left and Gianetta, Adina’s best friend, arrives with all the women of the village.  She tells them (swearing them to secrecy) that Nemorino’s excessively rich uncle has died and left him everything.  Nemorino is rich beyond any of their wildest dreams.  Now, low and behold, every girl in the village is suddenly taken by feelings of love for Nemorino…

He comes in, tanked up on more elixir, bought with his army bonus, and every woman throws herself at him.  He puts two and two together and…even Dulcamara begins to believe in the power of his own deceit, telling Adina that all this is the result of Nemorino taking his love potion for some woman. He asks if she would like some to win Nemorino back, but she assures him that she has everything she needs to win Nemorino in every which way, and he agrees…

When everyone is gone Nemorino sings the most famous aria in the piece.  Here’s an exquisite version for you…Una Furtiva Lagrima (A Secret Tear)…

Nemorino is convinced that Adina must be in love with him cecause he saw her crying while he was ignoring her for all his new lady friends.  Just then, she comes in, she has bought back his commission from Belcore and he does not need to join the army.  She turns to leave and he loses his faith in her love.  He declares that if she does not love him he may as well go to war.  She admits that she does love him and they embrace.

Enter Belcore, when he learns he has lost he is not exactly bothered.  After all, there are plenty more fish in the sea as far as he is concerned.

Dulcamara explains that his potion has made Nemorino not only happy in love, but also filthy rich, and the opera closes with everyone queuing up to buy some more cheap wine from the amazing physician, Dulcamara.

Idomeneo – A litte bit of context

04 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by singlikenooneswatching in Uncategorized

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Right off the bat, let me explain that I am not an opera scholar.  I am an opera singer and an opera lover who knows a fair bit about opera, but if you are looking for any deep historical research type writing here you are not in the right place.

My aim is to give you enough of an idea of the world for which Idomeneo was composed, and of the composer’s thinking while composing and his librettist’s mindset while writing that you feel a bit more smug and knowledgeable yourself while watching it.  All for the same reason that we all prefer watching films on subjects we feel competent about, starring actors we love, or by a writer or director we know a bit about. Also, much of it is just my opinion, or a way to get you thinking about the opera, so feel free to argue with me.

Firstly, let me say that I am indebted to several longer and more in-depth online resources for some/most of this post.  For a taster, and if you have the time and inclination, take a look at:

Modernising Mythology: A Historical and Cultural Study of Mozart’s Idomeneo

http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=eMDn-IF8nNIC&pg=PA62&lpg=PA62&dq=historical+context+Idomeneo+mozart&source=bl&ots=AvGWw5CXQ2&sig=Nx35tgfWrngNpd8uK02PcM6jHb8&hl=en&sa=X&ei=vNxZVMDfBpGP7AaA3oGYCQ&ved=0CCAQ6AEwADgK#v=onepage&q=historical%20context%20Idomeneo%20mozart&f=false

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_operas_by_Mozart

Idomeneo is a difficult opera to define.  It sits somewhere between the genres of Italian Opera Seria (long serious operas with huge arias and a lot of bowing) and the newer styles coming from France and Germany.  It was composed between 1780 and 1781.  Obviously by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (27 January 1756 – 5 December 1791 if you care about such things), with a libretto by Giambattista Varesco (1735-1805), the then chaplain of Salzburg Cathedral.

First let’s put Idomeneo in context of Mozart’s oeuvre.  Mozart was a prolific little prodigy and by the time he was 23 had composed 11 operas.  This rather puts one in one’s place. Most critics see Idomeneo, his twelfth, as a turning point.  Mozart’s previous works are all rarely performed, and while they have some exceptional musical moments, there is a reason.  They do not show the genius with human drama that Mozart could be and have a tendency to be very long (or very short), very confusing, very historical, trying to squeeze into a genre, and often, very, very difficult to sing.

Some of them are coming back into fashion however, especially La Finta Giardinera (1774), useful for a lot of companies because it is really very funny and good for youth companies because it has a nice big cast. It was recently revived very successfully  by Glyndebourne.

But back to Idomeneo.  What is undoubtedly the most interesting twist in the Mozart-Varesco version is that Idamante doesn’t die.  This veers away from the the traditional Greco-Roman plot.  Ultimately, humans who repent and are willing to sacrifice everything are redeemed.  Instead of unswervingly vengeful gods (Mozart and Varesco cut out Venus) we see only one god and he is forgiving.  Thus, the opera reflects the Enlightened Christian attitudes that had become prevalent by the mid to late 17th Century (especially among cathedral chaplains if you get my drift).  It is also one of his first operas to really explore human relationships.

As many critics and musicologists point out, at the time of composition, Mozart had recently lost his mother and was arguing constantly with his father.  He’d also just been rejected by Maria Aloysia Antonia Weber Lange, a German soprano he’d got the hots for (don’t feel too sorry for him, he married her sister in the end).  These fundamental trials (death, family feuding, rejection) affect the lives of the opera’s main characters.  The supernatural element that drives the traditional story is strikingly down-played.  This is an usual choice for a composition written at a time when theatrical spectacle was hugely popular.

“Hang about!” I hear you cry, “this isn’t a sign of Mozart’s new found genius, he just had a good librettist!”  Not exactly.  He did, but even so, if you explore the many letters between Mozart and Varesco it becomes clear that Mozart was calling the shots, more often than not telling Varesco to shorten things and get to the point.

Furthermore, it is the music that expresses the emotions. Mozart’s previous libretti had not been at all bad.  The libretti Mozart seemed to favour were excellent vessels. they were ‘to the point’ and comparatively simply written.

However, while composing Idomeneo it seems that something matured in Mozart and gave him the chance to really make the characters come musically to life in a way they nearly had before, but not quite.   He seems able, for perhaps the first time, to find a way to keep to recognisable musical forms but to simultaneously free himself from their restraints from within.

Take, for example, Ilia’s opening aria

Padre, germani, addio!              Father, siblings, goodbye!
Voi foste, io vi perdei.            You were, I have to lose you.
Grecia, cagion tu sei.              Greece, you are the cause.
E un greco adorerò?                 And will I love a Greek?
D'ingrata al sangue mio             Disgrace to my blood
So che la colpa avrei;              I know I would bring;
Ma quel sembiante, oh Dei,          But that look, Oh God,
Odiare ancor non so.                I still do not know how to hate

Actually, what Ilia says is pretty straight forward.  But Mozart’s melody rockets all over the place in ways that perfectly express the inner turmoil bubbling below the surface.  It is an exceptionally clever and powerful mix.  A direct libretto that speaks the way people really do, interwoven with music that encapsulates the feelings speech cannot express.  The music is still perfectly formed but its rises and falls and twists and turns are so dramatically ‘right’ that it really hits the spot.

Even when day-dreaming Ilia is not verbose:

Zeffiretti lusinghieri,        Flattering breezes
Deh volate al mio tesoro:      Fly to my beloved
E gli dite, ch'io l'adoro      And tell him that I adore him
Che mi serbi il cor fedel.     That I am served by a faithful heart
E voi piante, e fior sinceri   And you faithful plants and flowers
Che ora innaffia il            That now are watered by 
pianto amaro,                  my bitter tears
Dite a lui, che amor più raro  Say to him, that a more special loveMai vedeste sotto al ciel.     Was never seen beneath heaven.

But Mozart’s wafting melody gets to the heart of her human nature – she is simply a young girl in love.

And one more (to prove it’s not all Ilia!)

Non ho colpa, e mi condanni      I'm not to blame, and you curse me
Idol mio, perché t'adoro.        My idol, because I adore you.
Colpa è vostra, oh Dei tiranni,  You are to blame, oh tyrant gods,
E di pena afflitto io moro       And hurt with sorrow I die
D'un error che mio non è.        For a crime that is not mine.
Se tu brami, al tuo impero       If you desire it, on you order
Aprirommi questo seno,           I will open up this breast,
Ne' tuoi lumi il leggo, è vero,  In you eyes I read it, it is true,
Ma me'l dica il labbro almeno    But at least say it with your lips
E non chiedo altra mercè.        And I will ask no other mercy

Idamante is slightly more poetical, he uses “lumi” or “lights” for eyes, and begs Ilia to “tell him with her lips” rather than just “say it”, but his outburst is hardly lyrically over the top.  Furthermore, he is speaking to his beloved, and he is still trying to woo her.  A little flowery language would hardly go amiss under such circumstances, even if he weren’t on stage in an opera (ah, gentler times!- well a part from the sea monster etc.).

This is, I think, the magic of Idomeneo.  How real the characters terms of expression are and how powerfully the music expresses their psychological upsets.  It builds real pathos and creates true people out of these ‘mythological stock characters’.  It is something that really takes off in Idomeneo and continues into Mozart’s most famous operas with the librettist Da Ponte.

No wonder Mozart got so shirty that half of the singers he was working with couldn’t  act! He apparently had a hissy fit in a letter to his dad because Idomeneo, Anton Raaff,  was “like a statue” and Dal Prato, his Idamante, had never been on a stage before.

Idomeneo Act Two

03 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by singlikenooneswatching in Uncategorized

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The action has moved to Idomeneo’s palace where he is trying to get a grip on things. Obviously he doesn’t want to sacrifice his son but Neptune is going to be mightily miffed if the king doesn’t.  His friend Arbace has a cunning plan.  He suggests Idomeneo sends Idamante into exile and sacrifices someone else instead.  They agree to pack Idamante off with Elettra, he can  help her get back to Argos to take up the throne.  Arbace sings an aria (because otherwise how do you get a tenor to accept the role?), swearing his allegiance to Idomeneo.

Here’s a rather magical rendition by Rainer Trost, whose worth watching just for his amazing ability to sing with his eyes…

(the aria starts about 1:46)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ev5ufF-hscc

In comes Ilia.  Idomeneo is quite nice to her and she decides that being Cretan isn’t so bad and despite all the Act One soul searching tells Idomeneo she will make Crete a new home because both he and his son have been very good to her.  Idomeneo realises that banishing Idamante will leave her as upset as he is.

The only person feeling pretty good about the new state of play is Elettra who is looking forward to a nice cruise with Idamante.  She’s pretty chuffed and tells Idamante not to worry, if he is forced to marry her she has all the ways and means to make him love her – this, of course, cheers him up about as much as telling Alex Salmond he came a respectable second in the referendum.

Beautifully sung here by Anja Harteros (who might make you wonder what it is he’s moping about!)

A big party has gathered at the sea front to wish them buon voyage. Idomeneo again rejects his son’s entreaties.  Then, just as everyone is commenting on how calm the sea is a big old monster turns up, Idomeneo tells everyone it’s all his fault, and they all run away crying we run, we run, we fly, we fly…(corriamo, fuggiamo).  Poor old Elettra’s plans are scuppered once more.

It’s really rather fantastic “run away from the monster” music.

Idomeneo Act Three…getting there!

03 Monday Nov 2014

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Ilia is again having a sing song on her own.  This time she is in the palace gardens. She asks the gentle breezes to carry her love to Idamante.

Here’s Cotrubas performing it under the baton of James Levine.

She thinks he’s gone to sea with Elettra so when he suddenly turns up she is, needless to say, a little surprised. She finally admits she loves him.  Enter Elettra and Idomeneo. Idomeneo again tells Idamante that he must leave Crete, and he resolves to do so.  In comes Arbace and tells everyone that, surprise surprise, the Cretans are very upset that a sea monster is terrorising them and are demanding that Idomeneo pay his debt to Neptune.

We then move to the temple of the High Priest to Neptune who has a rather epic time telling everyone what the monster has been up to (Volgi intorno lo sgaurdo – Look around you).  This is what’s called an accompanied recitative.  It’s exceptionally dramatic and involves the singer delivering sung declamatory speech while the orchestra heightens the emotion. However, not being such a popular thign to just have a quick listen to, there’s not many versions available.  Here’s a good one though; video is not very interesting I’m afraid!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-SkliuY1MI

Under pressure, Idomeneo announces that it is his son who must be the sacrifice.  Everyone is distraught.  Suddenly, Idamante, never one to follow his father’s orders too carefully, arrives to tell everyone that he has killed the sea monster. Idamante now understands what’s going on and demands that his father sacrifice him to save Crete.  Ilia offers to take his place, but no one is having any of that.  Just as Idomeneo is about to kill Idamante the voice of Neptune is heard.  It turns out he’s not so vengeful after all.  He tells Idomeneo that everyone can live if the king gives up his throne to Idamante and Ilia.  Much rejoicing ensues.  Only Elettra is left wretched.

This is quite a fun rendition…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KV5sVPwlvxU

By the way, I haven’t spelt Elettra wrong, no one can seem to decide on her name.  I prefer no ‘c’.

Anyway, it’s all drawing to a close.  Idomeneo agrees to Neptune’s demands and everyone sings a happily ever after song (Scenda Amor, scenda Imeneo – Come Love, come Hymen!).

The End…

Tomorrow, some context.

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