Metropolitan Opera (live broadcast), 9/12/2023

Catán : Florencia en el Amazonas

Chorus and Orchestra of the Metropolitan Opera, New York

Yannick Nézet-Séguin

In the early days of the internet, when we were all still on dial-up, some may remember that social media took the form first of newsgroups, and then of chat rooms.  These were also the early days of the Met radio broadcasts being received in Europe, and I found myself group-listening with some similarly operatically-inclined Americans to these broadcasts.  Afterwards, some would linger, and we would chat about opera in general, and at some point about 2000 I began kvetching about not getting to hear American opera in Europe, whether on stage or on the radio.  I asked for suggestions, and was immediately and warmly recommended Florencia en el Amazonas.  I took note, and a couple of years later, the recording became available.  I obtained a copy, and fell in love with a lush and lyrical score that sounds like Puccini had survived past Turandot, emigrated to South America, and maybe started smoking something other than his beloved cigarettes. All that was lacking was the chance to see Florencia, and that has now been settled thanks to the Metropolitan Opera finally staging it this season.

They have done it proud, too.  The Met does not stint in its productions, and although sometimes they may not look as impressive as the effort put into them warrants, this one was a visual treat.  The action was set in a mostly bare set, of a royal blue floor between high curved walls of emerald green, video projections of a dense forest, for the most part, while the steamer on which the characters are travelling - the plot is decidedly strange, but there are distinct echoes of Fellini's E la nave va in the setting - is suggested mostly by sets of mobile guard rails, and some additional props.  However, the costumes are lavish, and the Amazonian wildlife is evoked through puppetry and masks, with a fairly clear nod to the work of Julie Taymor on productions like The Lion King, and the Met's own The Magic Flute (which is presently running concurrently with Florencia), so we get dancers - an extremely tall, leggy heron, and a perky little hummingbird - in vibrant colours, a cheeky puppet monkey, a lurking crocodile, or a very animated iguana, and the best one for me, a school of piranha, in flowing orange-red ballgowns and shimmering fish-heads, with choreography that darted and turned just as you would expect of a shoal of fish.

Gabriella Reyes (Rosalba), left, and the school of piranhas
Florencia en el Amazonas, Act 1
© Ken Howard / Met Opera (2023)

There are just seven characters, and they were all very well taken.  Aileen Pérez sang the titular Florencia, a reclusive diva returning to her home city in search of a revived purpose in her life.  Despite being the title role, this is not actually the biggest part, but she has three significant arias, the first about fifteen minutes into Act 1, and the other two opening and closing the second act.  Pérez brought warmth and a creamy tone to her singing, and a quiet radiance to the character, who may be deluded but is beautiful in her delusion.  

The other soprano was Gabriella Reyes as the eager young journalist Rosalba, determined to meet her idol Florencia, but also to avoid the pitfalls of love, despite falling head-over-heels for the captain's nephew Arcadio, practically at first sight.  Reyes was superb, bright and passionate, and her two Act 2 duets were a highlight of the evening.  The third female character is the older Paula, trapped, or so she believes, in a marriage that has gone stale, that is, until her husband Álvaro is apparently swept overboard in a storm.  Her threnody near the start of the second act was touchingly delivered by Nancy Fabiola Herrera.

Arcadio was the tenor Mario Chang, who was suitably keen and earnest, but I would have like a somewhat brighter voice for the role.  His uncle the captain was solidly sung by bass Greer Grimsley, as was the Álvaro of Michael Chioldi.  However, the singer who really stood out tonight was the young Italian baritone Mattia Olivieri, as the narrator/deus-ex-machina Riolobo, who not only sang with a commanding, confident and burnished tone, but his diction was astonishingly clear.  Not only could I distinguish every word he sang, I could actually understand it, and my knowledge of Spanish is strictly limited to what I can guess given my knowledge of French and Italian.  This was his Met debut, it's clear that this is one to watch out for in the future.

Nézet-Séguin lived up to his usual high standards, with a responsive Met orchestra revelling in Catán's sumptuous orchestration, in the near-impressionistic ripples of water and exotic bird-calls, in the heat and the perfume of this opulent, gorgeous score.  It's not a perfect opera, I have a lot of reservations about the libretto, which can be startlingly banal all too often, and for a piece written in 1996, it's frankly reactionary. On the other hand, given contemporary music's frequently unsavoury reputation as being an unlistenable clangour, it's nice to be able to give a concrete example of the contrary.  

[Next : 10th December]