Capitole de Toulouse, 05/03/2019
Strauss : Ariadne auf Naxos
Orchestre national du Capitole
Evan Rogister
When this production was announced as part of the 2018/19 season at the Capitole, there were two stars in the cast, and two rising stars. By the start of this year, Stéphanie d'Oustrac (The Composer) had withdrawn from the production, and rather more recently, Jessica Pratt (Zerbinetta) had to cancel for health reasons. That kind of 'activity' around a production - even if some of it is just bad luck - does not usually presage well for the end result, but this was one of those occasions where the company's choices of replacement were able to hold their own. The young singers replacing d'Oustrac and Pratt may not have the star-power of the original two, but it's probably a question of "yet".
French actor/director Michel Fau was given the task of producing this odd and entrancing work and, as the French like to say, "il n'est pas allé chercher midi à quatorze heures", meaning that he wasn't looking for reasons to make the work "relevant", or to modernise it, or to otherwise tinker with its workings, and this was most certainly not another infuriating exercise in regietheater. Fau as an actor has a strong track record in comedy (though far from exclusively), and it showed in his production. The Prologue was set in somewhat exaggerated baroque costume, with the stage split horizontally in half. The upper half showed a stage, with a blazoned drop curtain, in front of which the Majordomo lorded it over the hapless performers, who were gathered together in the lower half, representing the under-stage, with chairs for the orchestra and dressing rooms. Austrian actor Florian Carove was a singularly sadistic Majordomo, explicitly contemptuous of these underlings handsomely paid to amuse his master, and he clearly understood, and relished, the difficulty in which his instructions place them all.
Gender-bending the Composer seems to have become a bit of a thing at the moment. It worked extremely well in Anthony McDonald's production for Scottish Opera last year; here, at the end of the Introduction, we see the Music Master help the Composer bind her breasts, and then finish putting on a man's apparel, to pass off as a young man. Right at the end, in the last bars of the Opera, she reappears at the front of the stage, pulling off her wig and letting down her hair, literally. It's not an unreasonable choice, although I found that it undermined the Composer/Zerbinetta interactions somewhat. It was hard to define just how they were relating to each other, unlike in McDonald's version, where it was perfectly clear, and if unorthodox, perfectly feasible. As for the Opera, the stage now occupies the full stage area save for a narrow apron at the front, and is contained within a square golden frame. The designs change, and it looks more as if Leon Bakst had created a sort of pastiche baroque style heavily tinged with late Art Nouveau. The production as a whole is very colourful, but there is nothing in the action to swear at the text.
The Composer was sung by Anaïk Morel, with a good, warm timbre and a comfortable command of the range. I found her physically a little stiff, although that might be a production decision, to indicate how constrained she might be feeling having to pass herself off as a man, but there was at least one moment of magical intensity in her impassioned outpourings, though it was not where one might have expected it, in the last monologue. Werner van Mechelen was a solid mentor for his overwrought pupil, while Manuel Nuñez Camelino, in a wildly extravagant costume only matched by that, gloriously preposterous, of The Tenor's stage costume, was an acerbic Dancing Master. Elizabeth Sutphen's Zerbinetta sounded promising in terms of range and agility, but I had some questions about her power, which would only be answered in the second half.
With the Opera comes the three nymphs, the assured, but slightly shrill Caroline Jestaedt as Naiad, Carolina Ullrich as a good Echo, and the rich, dark voice of Sarah Laulan as Dryad. It is here, of course, that the Prima Donna of the Prologue transforms from a temperamental, entitled diva into the sublime Ariadne, with her dreamlike, mystical monologues that demand a very considerable range from the soprano. Catherine Hunold is a seasoned Wagnerian soprano, and it showed; a powerful, commanding voice comfortable throughout the range, with an easy lower register and shining upper one. This run is her first time singing Ariadne, and there's maybe some work to be done in terms of expressivity, but on the whole, she was quite satisfying.
My concerns regarding Sutphen's Zerbinetta materialised here. While "Großmächtige Prinzessin" was well-enough handled - the coloratura was a little imprecise rhythmically, but much of that was a production-related choice - when she was singing in quintet, her voice disappeared. It was clear that for the aria, the conductor was able to micro-manage the orchestral output, but could not help so much in the ensemble pieces. Philippe-Nicolas Martin as Harlekin delivered a suave and charming Serenade, and the three other commedia dell'arte characters were sound support.
Finally, what a pleasure to hear a tenor for whom the murderous writing of Bacchus's role presents no dangers. Issachah Savage, making his European debut here, was every bit the heldentenor needed for this ungrateful role. As The Tenor in the Prologue, he only has a couple of lines to sing, but they already sounded promising, and as Bacchus, apart from one slight crack right at the end, his voice rang out, gleaming, unconstrained and effortless. He and Hunold make a statuesque pair, and Bacchus is as dramatically awkward as he is vocally, so I'm not prepared to say much about Savage's acting abilities, but he's certainly worth making the detour to hear.
However, the sustaining glory of the evening was the orchestra. Even with a few 'quacks' towards the end of the piece, under conductor Evan Rogister the playing was of vibrant intensity, and superbly detailed. This is one of Strauss's greatest scores, a wonderful testimony to his tremendous skill as an orchestrator and to the richness of his imagination. The Capitole orchestra did it proud, and when the orchestra is truly present for a Strauss opera, the evening is already won.
[Next : 12th April, unless I squeeze something else in betimes}
Orchestre national du Capitole
Evan Rogister
When this production was announced as part of the 2018/19 season at the Capitole, there were two stars in the cast, and two rising stars. By the start of this year, Stéphanie d'Oustrac (The Composer) had withdrawn from the production, and rather more recently, Jessica Pratt (Zerbinetta) had to cancel for health reasons. That kind of 'activity' around a production - even if some of it is just bad luck - does not usually presage well for the end result, but this was one of those occasions where the company's choices of replacement were able to hold their own. The young singers replacing d'Oustrac and Pratt may not have the star-power of the original two, but it's probably a question of "yet".
French actor/director Michel Fau was given the task of producing this odd and entrancing work and, as the French like to say, "il n'est pas allé chercher midi à quatorze heures", meaning that he wasn't looking for reasons to make the work "relevant", or to modernise it, or to otherwise tinker with its workings, and this was most certainly not another infuriating exercise in regietheater. Fau as an actor has a strong track record in comedy (though far from exclusively), and it showed in his production. The Prologue was set in somewhat exaggerated baroque costume, with the stage split horizontally in half. The upper half showed a stage, with a blazoned drop curtain, in front of which the Majordomo lorded it over the hapless performers, who were gathered together in the lower half, representing the under-stage, with chairs for the orchestra and dressing rooms. Austrian actor Florian Carove was a singularly sadistic Majordomo, explicitly contemptuous of these underlings handsomely paid to amuse his master, and he clearly understood, and relished, the difficulty in which his instructions place them all.
 |
| The MajorDomo (Florian Carove, upper stage) announces the change of plans to the company. L to R : The Tenor (Issachah Savage), Harlekin (Philippe-Nicolas Martin), The Primadonna (Catherine Hunold), The Music-Master (Werner Van Mechelen), Scaramuccio (Pierre-Emmanuel Roubet), The Composer (Anaïk Morel), Truffaldino (Yuri Kissin), Brighella (Antonio Figueroa) and The Dancing-Master (Manuel Nuñez Camelino) (© Théâtre du Capitole 2019) |
Gender-bending the Composer seems to have become a bit of a thing at the moment. It worked extremely well in Anthony McDonald's production for Scottish Opera last year; here, at the end of the Introduction, we see the Music Master help the Composer bind her breasts, and then finish putting on a man's apparel, to pass off as a young man. Right at the end, in the last bars of the Opera, she reappears at the front of the stage, pulling off her wig and letting down her hair, literally. It's not an unreasonable choice, although I found that it undermined the Composer/Zerbinetta interactions somewhat. It was hard to define just how they were relating to each other, unlike in McDonald's version, where it was perfectly clear, and if unorthodox, perfectly feasible. As for the Opera, the stage now occupies the full stage area save for a narrow apron at the front, and is contained within a square golden frame. The designs change, and it looks more as if Leon Bakst had created a sort of pastiche baroque style heavily tinged with late Art Nouveau. The production as a whole is very colourful, but there is nothing in the action to swear at the text.
The Composer was sung by Anaïk Morel, with a good, warm timbre and a comfortable command of the range. I found her physically a little stiff, although that might be a production decision, to indicate how constrained she might be feeling having to pass herself off as a man, but there was at least one moment of magical intensity in her impassioned outpourings, though it was not where one might have expected it, in the last monologue. Werner van Mechelen was a solid mentor for his overwrought pupil, while Manuel Nuñez Camelino, in a wildly extravagant costume only matched by that, gloriously preposterous, of The Tenor's stage costume, was an acerbic Dancing Master. Elizabeth Sutphen's Zerbinetta sounded promising in terms of range and agility, but I had some questions about her power, which would only be answered in the second half.
With the Opera comes the three nymphs, the assured, but slightly shrill Caroline Jestaedt as Naiad, Carolina Ullrich as a good Echo, and the rich, dark voice of Sarah Laulan as Dryad. It is here, of course, that the Prima Donna of the Prologue transforms from a temperamental, entitled diva into the sublime Ariadne, with her dreamlike, mystical monologues that demand a very considerable range from the soprano. Catherine Hunold is a seasoned Wagnerian soprano, and it showed; a powerful, commanding voice comfortable throughout the range, with an easy lower register and shining upper one. This run is her first time singing Ariadne, and there's maybe some work to be done in terms of expressivity, but on the whole, she was quite satisfying.
My concerns regarding Sutphen's Zerbinetta materialised here. While "Großmächtige Prinzessin" was well-enough handled - the coloratura was a little imprecise rhythmically, but much of that was a production-related choice - when she was singing in quintet, her voice disappeared. It was clear that for the aria, the conductor was able to micro-manage the orchestral output, but could not help so much in the ensemble pieces. Philippe-Nicolas Martin as Harlekin delivered a suave and charming Serenade, and the three other commedia dell'arte characters were sound support.
 |
| Zerbinetta (Elizabeth Sutphen) and Harlekin (Philippe-Nicolas Martin) (© Théâtre du Capitole, 2019) |
However, the sustaining glory of the evening was the orchestra. Even with a few 'quacks' towards the end of the piece, under conductor Evan Rogister the playing was of vibrant intensity, and superbly detailed. This is one of Strauss's greatest scores, a wonderful testimony to his tremendous skill as an orchestrator and to the richness of his imagination. The Capitole orchestra did it proud, and when the orchestra is truly present for a Strauss opera, the evening is already won.
[Next : 12th April, unless I squeeze something else in betimes}